


Faith, Hope and Mercy

by TheKnittingLady



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Death, F/M, Implied Underage, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 02:47:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 67
Words: 75,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKnittingLady/pseuds/TheKnittingLady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reid goes missing.  When he comes back something's changed.  Can Rossi figure out how to help?  Set one year after 08x12 "Zugzwang" and spoilers to that episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 - Faith
> 
> They who go Feel not the pain of parting; it is they Who stay behind that suffer.  
> \- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

**Chapter 01  
Week 01**

“Where’s Reid?”  Morgan asked.

JJ looked up from her computer and looked around the bullpen.  “I don’t know.”  She said.  There was no tall, skinny profiler to be seen, no bag on his in box and no mug of coffee.  “Looks like he’s not in yet.”

“He’s never late.”  Morgan replied.

“He has been a couple of times.”

“Huh.”  Morgan wandered into Garcia’s lair.  “Hey babygirl, can you ping Reid’s phone for me?”

“Why, isn’t he here?”

“No, he’s not in yet.  I want to make sure he’s okay.”

“What are you going to do if he’s at a girl’s house?”  Garcia teased, even as she was turning to type.

“Have a little celebration.  It’s been over a year since Maeve died, it’s time he got back on that horse.”

“Some guys have trouble getting over stuff.”  Garcia nodded to the map.  “No girl unfortunately; he’s at Georgetown, specifically in the faculty parking lot.  Maybe he had a lecture this morning.”

“Then why isn’t he answering his phone?”  Morgan tried again, this time on speaker, and after four rings got voicemail.  “Okay, fine.”  He called a different number.

“Blake.”

“Hey, it’s Morgan.  Where are you?”

“Georgetown.  I have my lecture this morning.”

“Is Reid with you?”

“No, why?”

“His phone is in the parking lot but he’s not answering.  Can you go check?”

“Yeah, I know where he parks.   I’ll call you back.”

“Do you think something’s wrong?”  Garcia asked.

Morgan sighed.  It wouldn’t be the first time someone went after the team.  “I don’t know; I just have a bad feeling.”

Ten minutes later Hotch found them.  “We have a problem.”

* * *

 

They found Blake standing with campus police, setting up a perimeter around a familiar old blue Volvo.  “We did a joint presentation last night.”  She told everyone as they came up.  “He stayed behind to talk to Dr. Nagley; I’ve already got a call in for him to come talk to us.  This is where he was parked last night; it looks like it hasn’t moved.  And then there’s this.”  She pointed to the front seat.

They leaned in to look.  There on the front seat was Reid’s phone and the familiar leather folder that contained his badge.  And on the floor in the passenger’s seat they saw his bag.  “He wouldn’t leave those behind.”  Morgan said.

“I’m just glad he changed out of his contacts before the lecture last night.”  Blake replied.  She nodded to the masses of pink blossoms on the cherry trees.  “He said the pollen was bothering his eyes.”

“Hotch.”  They turned to see JJ pointing up at the light pole, “Security cameras.”

“Good.  Call Garcia.”

* * *

 

Rossi and Morgan interviewed Dr. Nagley.  He was the last one to see Reid, but he didn’t have much.  They had stood in the atrium for about twenty minutes or so, talking about the lecture, and then Reid headed out, Nagley to his office.  Nagley hadn’t noticed anything off, either around them or with Reid.

 The security footage backed up Nagley’s story.  They watched Reid join Blake on campus, they watched him blinking too much, heading into the bathroom, coming out with glasses on.  The university had recorded the lecture for their online library, they could watch the entire thing if they liked.  They watched Reid and Blake walk together to the atrium, and then they watched Blake leave while Reid talked to Nagley and then he left as well.  They watched him walk across campus to the parking lot.

But they didn’t watch him getting into his car.  Earlier that day a van from a Johnson Electrical had pulled into the lot.  Two men with caps pulled low to shield their faces and tool bags in hand got out and started methodically disabling each of the cameras.  “This wasn’t random.”  Hotch said.  “This is an organized team.  They were after Reid specifically.”

“But why?”  Blake wanted to know.

“That’s what we have to find out.”  Hotch replied. 

“I looked up Johnson Electrical.”  Garcia told them.  “It’s all fake, the address, the phone number, the license, all of it.  And I ran the plates; they were stolen two months ago.”

“Very well organized,” Blake muttered.

JJ came into the room.  “Will just called, DC metro got word of a white van on fire out in Buzzard Point.  They were able to get the plates.”

“Let me guess.”  Rossi said, “Stolen.”  He looked back at the group.  “These guys are covering all the bases.”

“Isn’t the National Defense University down there?”  Morgan asked.

“Yeah, but also the concrete plant, a lot of construction yards.  Will said there were no cameras in the area.”

“And there’s easy access to I295 from there.”  Hotch added.  “They’re well out of the city by now.”

Strauss had crept in the back.  “Could someone be targeting the team again?”

“Too soon to tell,” Hotch replied, “But security details just in case.  Let’s start with his current cases and see if anyone sounds familiar.  Hopefully they’ll contact us and we’ll learn more.”

They went out to the bullpen and got to work.

* * *

 

But they weren’t contacted at all on that first day. 

Eventually they were all drooping from exhaustion.  Morgan braved the fortress and insisted that Garcia let him take her home.  “No.”  She told him.  “I can’t.”

“You need to, momma.”  He told her.  “You’re not up to your best any more.  We’re not going to do anything for him tonight.”

“But he’s out there, Morgan!”  She insisted.  “He could be hurt or cold or hungry or really getting hurt or…or…”  She started to hyperventilate a little.

“Hey.  Hey.  Now we’re talking about Reid, all right.  He’s strong.  Hell, he might be the strongest of all of us.  If I know him he can survive one night.  Now come on, we’ll get a good sleep and a decent breakfast and we’ll find him tomorrow.”

* * *

 

They weren’t contacted on the second day.  Or on the third day.

On the third day they ran out of potential threats from case files and accepted the fact that they had to go digging into the private life of their most private friend.  They started with his academic career, looking at colleagues, students, people in and around his university life.  They interviewed Nagley again, and the security personal from Georgetown, but got nowhere.

On the fourth day Garcia took a deep breath and started looking into Spencer’s electronic world, social media, e-mail, financial patterns.  They were collectively shocked at how much Bennington was costing him a month.  “What happens if he doesn’t come back right away?”  JJ asked.  It had already been far too long

“Don’t worry about it.”  Rossi replied.

“Are you sure?”  Hotch asked.

“He can help me with the research for my next book to pay me back.”

That afternoon JJ, Blake and Morgan went over to Spencer’s apartment.  They started digging through everything, carefully, respectfully, but they had to try to find some kind, any kind of a lead.  Blake personally took the trunk containing his correspondence with Maeve.  “He trusted you with it first.”  Morgan said, “Although I don’t know why he didn’t trust the rest of us.”

“Because you still tease him like a little brother,” she replied.

“Well he is.”  Morgan said.  “At least that’s how I feel about him.”

“Do your sisters still treat you like that?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because they know I’m an adult.”  The light went on in Morgan’s head.  “Maybe I should check that.”

“Maybe you should.”

They didn’t find anything in his apartment anyway.

They weren’t contacted that day.  Or on the next.  Or that first week at all. 

* * *

.

* * *

Note:  This is an interactive story.  See the note at the end of chapter 4 for details.

This is going to be very, very, VERY angsty.  Consider this a warning, bring tissues.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 02  
Week 02**

There was no contact in the first week.  And there was no contact in the first half of the second week.  As near as they could tell Spencer Reid had just disappeared off the face of the earth.

The results came back from forensics.  They found no anomalies in or on Reid’s car.  And they found no anomalies in or on the burned out van.  They were able to track down the shop that had printed the magnetic sign on the side of the van only to find that it had been paid for in cash and the shop didn’t have security cameras.  The clerk described the man who bought the sighs as a white guy, average height, portly, grey but balding, moustache and beard; kind of average all around.  The best sketch he could come up with was too average to be of any help.

About midway through the second week a decision was made.  Dave Rossi took it upon himself to fly out to Vegas.  At Bennington Sanitarium he stopped to brief Dr. Norman on the situation, and then allowed himself to be escorted to a quiet corner of the day room.  There he approached the figure in the window seat.  “Excuse me.”  He said quietly.  “I don’t know if you remember me.  I never found out if you prefer Mrs. Reid or Dr. Reid.”

“Of course I do.”  Diana Reid replied.  “Dave Rossi, you work with my son.  You’re his friend.  Please, call me Diana.”  She sighed and gestured to a nearby seat.  “He’s in trouble, isn’t he?”

Rossi accepted the offer.  “I’m afraid so.  How did you know?’

“He stopped writing.  Which means someone is preventing him from writing; he would never stop on his own.  And now you’re here.  I assume you’re trying to help him.”

“We are, but unfortunately at the moment we have nothing to go on.  Until he returns I’ll be the contact for Dr. Norman, if you should need anything.”

“Thank you.  That’s very kind.”

“We know you two are close, has he told you about or written about anything that was troubling him at all?”

Diana thought a moment.  “No.”  She replied.  “There’s been nothing troubling in his life since that girl he was so interested in died.  He never told me how but I know that wounded him deeply.”

“I remember.  He seemed to have recovered quickly though.”

“Oh no, it took months.”  She told him.  “He was aching with that loss for a very long time.  He just wanted to get back to work right off; he said it took his mind off the pain.  But for the past couple of seasons he’s been better.  At least he sounded more hopeful about finding someone, for good this time.”

“Had he?”

She thought a long moment.  “No.  No, I don’t believe that he had.  He was hopeful but he has yet to find just the right girl.”

Rossi took a deep breath.  “I know he wrote to you often and I know those letters are deeply personal but if we have any hope of finding him…”

Diana nodded.  “I know.  And I’m sure you’ll be careful with what you find in them.”  She looked out the window again.  “He’s not dead.  A mother would know if her child was dead.  _I_ would know if my son was dead.”

“I have no doubt of that.”

* * *

 

Rossi returned two days later. 

There was nothing in those letters.

They were not contacted during that second week.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 03  
Week 03**

They were not contacted during the second week.  They were not contacted by the Thursday of the third week either.

* * *

 

“You don’t have to do this.”  Jared said.

Will LaMontagne looked over at the cop in the driver’s seat.  He wondered if he looked as sick as he felt, what he was doing was wrong and he knew it.  But what had happened was worse, and sometimes you have to commit a small wrong for the greater good.  “Yeah, I do.”  He said.  “I have a problem.”

“Well, admitting that is the first step.  Come on.”  Jared got out of the car and led the way into the building.

Once inside he introduced to a man named Bob.  “…and you’re here…?”

Will recognized an intro when he was handed one.  “I’m here because I have a problem.  Any chance I can share with the group tonight?”

“Sure.  You can be first up if you like.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

The meeting opened with a short prayer and a bit of business tended to by Bob, and then, “Do we have anyone here new tonight?”  Will was the only one who raised his hand.  “All right, you said you wanted to share so come on up.”

Will took a deep breath and went up to the front.  “Hi.  Now I know I’m supposed to say my first name and that I’m an addict and that I’m not supposed to talk about where I work.  But I’m not going to do that because I want you all to be able to bust my nuts down to my knees if you feel the need.  So I’ll tell you, my name is Will LaMontagne Jr. and I’m a detective at DC Metro.  My wife’s name is JJ; she works over at the FBI.  And this here…”  He went to the white board behind him and quickly scrawled up a number.  “That’s my mother-in-law’s number, her name is Sandy Jareau.  Now I’m telling you all that because I’m not an addict.  I’ll be honest; I’ve never touched the stuff.  I lied my way in here.”

By now the assemblage of mostly men and all cops were outright pissed.  They were at their most vulnerable in this space and did not appreciate having trust broken.  “Then why the hell are you here?”  One asked.

“Because I do have a problem; there’s a guy who comes here, his name is Spencer, real tall, real skinny, real nerdy.  When he first came here you probably wondered why a college professor showed up at a closed meeting for cops.”  They nodded their familiarity.  “Well he works with my wife; he’s my son’s godfather.  He went missing almost three weeks ago and they’ve got no leads.  Not one.  You guys are the only ones who knew him who haven’t been interviewed yet.  Now no one knows I’m here but I had to come ask.  We need your help.”

The men in the group all looked at each other, muttered a bit, and then nodded.  Finally one of them asked, “What have you got?”

* * *

 

Will made several new friends that night and got no less than a dozen other agencies quietly on the case, but in the end they couldn’t help him.  Spencer had been clean for over five years they said.  The ones who knew him best said that they worried about him after his girl died, but he stayed clean through it and for the past nine months hadn’t even said anything about being tempted.  From what they knew he was doing okay.  And no one had been poking around, they were all cops with something to hide, they would have noticed.

There was nothing in the third week.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 04  
Week 04**

By the fourth week the team had been sent out on other cases.  Even with that they were distracted, there was a hole in their unit, in their family, and with that hole there was no way they could fully concentrate.  But they still managed to catch the monsters in front of them; Spencer would have expected nothing less.

On that Friday Garcia was deep in a data trail when her line lit up with an incoming call.  She answered thinking it was the team but it wasn’t.  “Hello?”  Said a young, female voice.

  “Hey sweetie, I think you have the wrong number.”  Garcia told her gently.

 “Are you Garcia?”  She asked with a soft accent. 

 This set off every weirdness alarm and got Garcia’s full attention.  “Yeah, I am.  Sweetie, who gave you this number?”

“Spencer.  He told me to call.”

Garcia gasped and immediately started tracing and recording the call.  “Yes!  Ohmygawd, is he all right?  I mean is he hurt?  Is he hurt bad?”

 “No, he’s not hurt at all.”

“They where…why…okay, I need a grip here.  What’s your name?”  She started patching through to the team.

“Lizzy.”

“What’s your last name?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Nope.  Everyone calls me Lizzy.”

“Okay how old are you?

“Eight.”

“Okay Lizzy, where are you?”

“Uncle John’s farm.”

“Okay and where is that?’

“I don’t know.”

Just then Morgan answered.  “Hey babygirl, what have you got?”

“Ohmygawd I have a little girl on my video line and her name is Lizzy and she said Spencer told her to call.  Please tell me everyone is there.”

She could almost feel Morgan coming alert on the other end of the phone.  “Keep her on the line.  Can you patch the call through?”

“Yeah, I think.  She was asking for me but he might have told her about everyone.”

“Okay momma, just hold on.”

“Right,” Garcia turned back to Lizzy.  “You said Spencer was all right?”

“Yeah.”

“Can he come to the phone?”

“No, Uncle John has them locked in the cellar.  This is all the way upstairs.”

“Where is Uncle John now?”

“He went out with Mr. Kipling.  I’m not allowed to use the computer; if he comes back I’ll have to hang up.”

“Okay, but don’t hang up unless he comes back.”  She checked the trace and started a fluent mental string of curses.

“Garcia.”  It was Hotch.  “We’re all here, what’s going on?”

“I have a girl on my line.  Her name is Lizzy, she doesn’t know her last name and she’s eight.   She said she’s at Uncle John’s farm but she doesn’t know where that is. She said that Spencer told her to call.  She said that he’s all right but he’s locked in the cellar and can’t get to the line.  And the really bad news is that I can’t trace the call.”

“At all?”  Blake asked, shocked.

“No.  It’s a lot of technical stuff but I can’t.  The NSA could maybe but this is beyond even my magic.  I am recording it though.  And I am putting us in conference…now”

“Hello Lizzy.”  Hotch said.  “Are you there?”

“Yep, I’m here.”

“My name is Aaron Hotchner.  Did Spencer tell you about us?”

“Yeah, he said you were his family.”

 “We are.  Did he give you a message for us?”

“Yeah.  He said that he’s no more than five hours outside the city.  He said he doesn’t have any windows so he can’t see where he is.  He said he hasn’t met the Unsub yet so he doesn’t have a profile and he said to look up Laura Patterson from Los Angeles and Cornell.  She’s been here for a month”

“Is she locked up with him?”

“Yeah, she is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's how this works. The team is standing in a conference room in a police stations, where isn't important. You have this little girl on the phone who claims to have a message from Spencer. You have the information she's given you so far. What other questions do you ask her? I'll incorporate as many as I can into the next chapter, have the characters answer, and in a chapter or two give you a chance to ask more until you come up with a way to solve the first mystery.
> 
> You have until 03/03/13 to post questions on this chapter. Have fun.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 05  
First contact**

"Is anyone else with them?" Hotch asked. "Who else is there? And is anyone hurt at all?"

"Nope," Lizzy replied. "It's just me and Uncle John and Laura and Spencer. Mr. Kipling comes to visit; he went out with Uncle John tonight. Spencer said I should call you every chance I could, he told me to watch Uncle John make a call and do what he did if he was going to be away from the house for a while and to stay on as long as I could. Laura and Spencer aren't hurt; I can see them on the cameras. They're playing cards."

"What do Uncle John and Mr. Kipling look like?"

"Uncle John is really tall and skinny, but not as tall or skinny as Spencer. He has really dark hair and a beard and a moustache. Mr. Kipling has a beard and a moustache too but his are grey. So is his hair but he doesn't have a lot of it, and he has a big belly."

"Lizzy." Blake spoke up. "My name is Alex, sweetie. What's the weather like?"

"It's been cold still, but there isn't as much snow as there was when I first came here."

"When you first came there? When did you get there?"

"Two months ago. Mr. Kipling bought me from Petey."

"Who was Petey?"

"He's the man Momma sold me to. That wasn't…good. It's better here, Uncle John doesn't want to do anything like that."

She sounded reluctant. Blake picked up on that and changed the subject. "So Uncle John isn't really your uncle? Do you know where you lived before you moved to Uncle John's?"

"In Austen, with Petey. Uncle John told me to call him that."

"Do you know the name of the town closest to you, and how far away it is?" Morgan asked.

"Nope. We don't go to town; Mr. Kipling brings everything here for us."

"What about the mail? Any letters around, maybe a newspaper?"

"Not…that…I…can see. Mr. Kipling brings mail things in a big envelope when he comes out. He brings magazines too; let's see… _Backwoods Home, Field and Stream, Guns and Ammo_ ….

"Okay, okay." Morgan interrupted her. "Any addresses on the fronts of those?"

"No, they all have a part torn off."

"Hey sweetie," JJ stepped in. "My name is JJ. You said you were on a farm, what kind of buildings are out there, can you describe the place? Do you have a silo there, like a big, round tower?"

"Yeah, there's the house, which is yellow and white and has a big porch and then there's the barn, which is white with a red roof with black glass on it. There's black glass on the top of the house too. No big towers, but we do have a windmill."

"What kind of animals do you have there?"

"Um, there's Uncle John's dog, Jax, and the horses, Sam and Witch, and he has a pretty brown cow named Nut, and a two pigs and a lot of chickens."

"Do any of them have any tags in their ears?"

"Nope."

"Does Uncle John have a car or a truck?"

"Spencer asked me that too. I haven't seen one but I'll keep looking."

"Do you watch TV at all sweetie?" Blake asked. "Does Uncle John watch the news at night?"

"Nope. Uncle John listens to music at night"

"Hey Lizzy?" Garcia spoke up. "What kind of clothes are you wearing?"

"Um, a pink t-shirt and jeans. Mr. Kipling bought them for me."

"Honey," Dave took a turn. "Where do you go to school?"

"I don't. I've never been to school. Petey's ho Lucy taught me to read."

"I'm guessing church is out too. What about any friends, any other kids in the area?"

"No, there's only the one house across the road, but I can't go there. If I go too far away from the house the box-thing on my collar bites me." All of a sudden she gasped. "It's them!"

And the line went dead.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 06**   
**First contact**

By the next morning another team had arrived from the FBI, had been briefed, and the team was heading back to the BAU to resume the case.  As soon as they landed they headed for the conference room.  “You said you weren’t able to trace the call?”  Hotch asked that right off.

“No, unfortunately,” Garcia told them.  “Lizzy was calling me on a Voice-over-IP line, basically a phone that uses the internet instead of the phone company.  Uncle John has this thing set up with what’s called an Onion Router.  Onion Routing is a system intended to enable online anonymity. Onion Router client software directs internet traffic through a worldwide volunteer network of servers to conceal a user's location or usage from anyone conducting network surveillance or traffic analysis.   It was originally designed to protect whistle blowers and human rights workers but of course it’s now used to anything anyone doesn’t want traced, very popular with all kinds of illegal types including child porn types.”

“And it can’t be broken?”  Hotch asked.

“The best you can do in theory is capture one-third of the nodes using Onion Routing at any given time and acquire their encryption keys and algorithm seeds.  You can then use those keys and seeds to decrypt the first two layers of protection, mount a DOS attack for force all the Onion traffic over those nodes and then use statistical analysis to break the third key, but that will only get you to the entry node.  It would be like getting you to a cell phone tower, you still wouldn’t know which phone you were looking at and even if you could find the specific phone you would still have to decrypt it to get in and try to find the location of the person with the phone.  And of course all of the seeds change every time you log on.”

“So you’d have to do all that in the space of one phone call.”  Blake said.

“Yeah, and only one person has ever even tried that.”  Garcia shrugged.  “Reid has some very strange ideas of what constitutes ‘fun’.” 

“So the answer is no, we’re not going to be able to trace the call if she calls again.”  Rossi nodded, “Slick.  What about our other victims?”

“Okay, here is what I have so far.”  Garcia put a picture of a woman up on the board.  She had sharp, almost elf-like features, white, red hair chopped just above her shoulders.  Her best feature was her amber eyes that seemed to be laughing even though she was wearing a professional smile.  “Meet Laura Patterson.  She’s 28, from Palo Alto, California, currently a grad student at Cornell University going for her PhD in Human Ecology, and she went missing a month before Reid.  Same MO, her housemates noticed she wasn’t at breakfast, they found her car in a lot behind the Human Ecology building, the cameras were disabled by two guys in the Johnson Electric van, different plates, still stolen.”

“Any connection between her and Reid?”  Hotch asked.

“Not that I have found so far but I am going to dig as deep down the rabbit hole as I can.”  Garcia replied.  “Now as for Lizzy the girl that best fits the bill is an Elizabeth Martin from Austen, TX.”  She put a picture of a little girl with blue eyes and blond pigtails on the screen.  “She disappeared four years ago when she was four when her mother sold her, grrr, to pay a drug debt.  Her grandparents Sam and Edith Martin reported her missing.  They have since gotten sole custody, thank god.”

“I wonder if there’s any connection there.”  JJ mused.

“Don’t know, I am still digging.”

“Is it me or is this guy trying really hard to stay off the grid.”  Morgan said.  “He’s getting the mail through his friend Kipling, rarely leaves the place, and is using all this encryption on his computer…”

“Glass on the roof, I bet that’s solar.”  JJ added.  “And a windmill could mean a well which means he’s off the utility grid.  It sounds like he’s relying on Kipling for everything.”

“Yeah, I checked into those magazines she was talking about.”  Garcia replied.  “I didn’t know what _Backwoods Home_ was; they’re a small magazine for hard-core Libertarian survivalists. All about living off the grid and fighting the government.  I tried to do a thing and get their subscriber lists but they didn’t have them on their computers.”

“Good luck there.”  Rossi scoffed.  “Guys like that keep them hard copy just so you can’t do a ‘thing’.  They would rather destroy their files and take a contempt charge than give up that data.”

Blake had been considering the file while they talked.  “Guys, look at these dates.  Reid went missing on March 28, the fourth Friday of the month.  Laura Patterson went missing on February 21, the fourth Friday of the month.  Lizzy called us on April 25, the fourth Friday of the month.  I wonder if Kipling is only available on that week-end.  That might explain the quid pro quo here.”

“The quid pro quo?”  Garcia asked.  “Once more for the non-profilers?”

“Kipling is helping Uncle John stay off the grid so he can do…whatever he’s doing to Reid and Laura.”  Morgan told her.  “He’s providing another level of insulation.  In exchange we’re guessing that John is looking after Lizzy, Kipling’s victim, because Kipling is living a life that makes him want to keep being a pedophile even more of a secret than usual.  That probably means that he’s married and holds down a job.  He looks like the perfect husband but once a month he takes a week-end off with the guys to go hunting, or some excuse like that.”

“Even if John isn’t a pedophile they’re both committing criminal acts.”  Hotch pointed out.  “If one goes down he’ll take the other, which locks them into the relationship.  I’ll contact Katherine Cole and Andi Swan, see if they can help us from that angle.”

“Does anything we have so far help us find them?”  JJ asked.  “Or tell us what’s happening to them?”

Blake pulled the transcript of the call over.  “Well, five hours outside the city with snow on the ground this time of year means north, probably north-west, toward the great lakes.  Garcia, can you pull that up?” 

Garcia obligingly put it up on the board.  “I wonder how he knew.”

“He might have been unconscious that long.”  Hotch said.  “If we assume the same kind of sedative…can you also give us a five hour ring outside Cornell?”

Garcia did, taking in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Delaware, New York City and Baltimore.  “He would have to be in a deeply rural area to pull this off.”  Blake said.  “The Baltimore-Philadelphia-New York corridor is less likely, but there is a lot of Pennsylvania that fits the bill.”

“At least we’re not looking all over the country anymore.”  Morgan replied.  “What do you think he’s doing to them?”

“Well, we know he has them locked in the cellar.”  Rossi said.  “They’re uninjured, healthy enough to play cards, and able to communicate to Lizzy if no one else.  But it’s been a month, why hasn’t the Unsub talked to them yet?  And while we’re at it, why these two?  These guys went through a lot of trouble to target these two personally.”

“I don’t know.”  Hotch said, in the voice that said that he did not like not knowing.  “Who do we have that we can talk to about Laura Patterson?”

“Well her father, Andrew Patterson is on his way here to talk to…uh oh.”  Garcia’s eyes went wide.

“Uh oh what uh oh?”  Morgan asked. 

“Her father is a venture capitalist.  He runs the Palo Alto office of In-Q-Tel.”

“In-Q-Tel?”  Hotch asked.

“It’s a venture capital firm that invests in high tech companies.  Its parent company is the CIA.”

 “This is not good.”  Rossi said.

“Has Patterson received a ransom demand?”  Hotch asked.

“No Sir.”  Garcia replied, “At least not one that we know about.”

“And you said he’s on his way here?  What about the mother?”

“He should be landing within the hour.  Laura’s mother died when she was eight, he father remarried when she was ten, her step-mother is a patent lawyer, and she is not on her way.”

“You can’t get much further from the Bay Area than Cornell.”  Blake said.  “Most students don’t go all the way across country for school without a good reason.  A contentious family relationship is a big one.”

“All right,” Hotch said.  “I’ll remain here and interview the father.  The rest of you take the plane and head up to Ithaca, see what you can find.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, time for round #2. We are sending four agents to Ithaca:
> 
> Rossi  
> Blake  
> JJ  
> Morgan
> 
> And they will have four people to interview:
> 
> Laura's academic adviser  
> Her roommate  
> Her boss  
> Her best friend
> 
> Who do you send where and what should they ask?
> 
> In addition Hotch will be interviewing her father, what questions do you want answered there?
> 
> Have fun!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 07**   
**Martha Van Rensselaer Hall**   
**Cornell University**   
**Week 04**

On the way up to Ithaca the team decided who would go where.  Sending Blake to talk to her academic advisor was a natural fit.

Blake tapped on the frame of the open door.  “Dr. Hamilton?”

A professorial type, right down to the glasses and bow tie, looked up from a cluttered desk.  “Dr Blake I presume?”  He stood and offered his hand.  Blake nodded and accepted.  “It’s a pleasure.  Please.”  He indicated the seat across from him.  “I admit I had to look you up.  Forensic Linguistics at Georgetown, yes?”  Blake nodded again.  “Well what can I do for a linguist?”

“Unfortunately I’m wearing my other hat today.  FBI.”  She held up her badge.  “We’re looking to the disappearance of Laura Patterson.”

Dr. Hamilton sagged.  “Oh, it’s such a shame.  It’s terrible, what happened.  One minute she was a part of our community and the next she was gone.  Everyone’s been in shock.  Anything any of us can do to help…”

“Thank you.  I’m afraid I have to start at the beginning, I’ve never even heard of human ecology as a discipline, and yet this seems to be a huge department.”

“Human Ecology is a proud tradition here at Cornell.  We have one of the largest programs in the country and the only one in the Ivy League, we have for over a hundred years now.”

“Really?  Wow, that’s impressive.  What exactly is Human Ecology, what do you do here?”

“Our mission is to explore the complex relationship between human beings and their natural, social, and constructed environments.  We’re a multidisciplinary department; we include nutrition research, textile research and design, industrial design, architecture, child psychology and development, education, and public policy, and that’s looking at the topic in broad terms.”

“What was Laura’s research in?”

“Laura was researching the effects of the transition of women as a class into the job market on child development, specifically how having all adults in the family working affected children as they developed through adolescence and transitioned into adulthood.  It was a comprehensive project, taking into account effects on nutrition and physical health, psychological development, educational outcomes and the ability to form attachments and family bonds later in life.”

Blake blinked at him.  “Seriously?  I thought we settled that back in the ‘70’s.”

Hamilton chuckled.  “Oh no, we just started this mass sociological experiment back in the ‘70’s.  No one has ever done quantifiable research on the subject; we all just assumed that everything was fine.  But now that we have at least two generations and forty years of data to work with she was determined to settle the question once and for all.”

“Did she have any rivals?  Any enemies?”

“Other than everyone?”  He shook his head.  “No, while her choice of work and the results she was getting were less than popular she didn’t have any personal enemies or rivals.  Everyone liked her, she was a joy to work with, organized, even tempered, friendly, as well balanced as a top.  No we were thrilled to have her in the department.”

“Was she closed to anyone here?  Any particular friends, boyfriend?”

He thought for a moment.  “No, not that I noticed.”

“No close relationships, was she close to her family at all?”

“Yes and no, she was close to her father I believe but there was some kind of a problem with the family.  She never went home, not in all the time I knew her but he came out two or three times a year.  I recall speaking with him one time; he said he didn’t understand why someone as bright as his daughter chose our discipline.”

“Her intelligence stood out?”

“Honestly I would have expected a woman with her abilities to be in the hard sciences.  I tried talking to her about it when she first started her graduate work but she was convinced that this was the home for her.  She was passionate about her work, she could go on about it for hours if you let her.  I can tell you he was very generous, she turned down a chance to be a teaching assistant.  She said other people needed the money more than she did, she’d rather devote herself to the research.”

“Her father came out but not her stepmother?”

“No, she wasn’t close to her stepmother at all.”

“Did she ever talk about her father’s work?”

“No, she just said he was in high tech venture capital, never anything more.”

“Does the name Dr. Spencer Reid mean anything to you?”

“No, I can’t say that I’ve heard of him.  Is he with a university?”

“He’s a guest lecturer at Georgetown.  She never mentioned the name, never talked about his work…”

“No, not at all.  Is he involved in all this?”

“We believe so.”

“Hmmm…No, I’m sorry, I have nothing.”

“Can we get access to her research, her notes, office?”

“Of course, anything you need.”

“Can you think of anything else that stood out in any way?”

“Well, there was one odd thing…”

“Yes?”

“I’ll let you in on our old open secret.  This department’s been around for a hundred years, and we’ve always covered these same topics, but this has only been the College of Human Ecology since 1969.”

“What was it before that?”

“The Department of Home Economics.”

Blake blinked.  “Really?  Home Economics?”

Hamilton nodded.  “Laura was petitioning the college to use the old name on her degree.  I doubt that she would have been successful but she was determined to take the effort as far as she could.  When I asked why she said she specifically wanted to be a Home Economics professor, she said that homes matter and that the name should never have been changed.  She never explained further.”

“Huh.  Well, thank you Dr.”

“You know, everything I’ve read has said that after this much time the chances are slim, is there any hope of her returning to us at all?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t discuss the investigation.”

“But your eyes are giving me at least a sliver of hope.  Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And continuing with this round we still have:
> 
> Laura's roommate  
> Her boss  
> Her best friend 
> 
> And we still have:
> 
> Rossi  
> JJ  
> Morgan
> 
> Who do you pair up and what should they ask? Comments are open


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 08**   
**Homespun**   
**Ithaca, NY**   
**Week 04**

They decided to send Rossi to talk to her boss, based on the idea that college kids might clam up around someone the same age as their professors, but an older adult might be more comfortable with someone with some authority.  He approached the woman behind the counter.  “Excuse me; I’m looking for a Hickory Chu?”

“You found her.  One sec.”  She was a comfortably padded woman with an Earth Mother vibe who turned to Rossi as soon as she finished with her customer.  “What can I get you?”

“Some answers, I hope.”  He showed her his badge.  “I’m Dave Rossi; we’re looking into the Laura Patterson case.  Is there a place where we can talk for a few?”

“Oh god!  Poor Laura.  Sure, right this way.”  She led him through the shop, a cozy place crowded with yarn and fabric and about a million bits and bobs that went along with both, to a back room set up as a classroom, with tables and examples hanging on the wall.  “It’s terrible what happened.  I expected her for class that morning and she just never came.”

“Class?  Student or teacher?”

“Teacher.  She taught English paper piecing, hand appliqué, hand quilting, basic sock construction, and intro to knitting, oh I’d have to look at what else.  She was usually booked for classes all day Saturday and at least one other night a week.”

“And she was usually on time?’

“Oh, she never missed a class.  Regular and reliable as clockwork, always organized, everything in place.  I loved having her teach.”

“Did she ever say why she taught here and not at the school?”

“I asked her once; she said that this was closer to what she wanted out of life, this was the sort of teaching she wanted to do.  Besides, it pissed Karen off something fierce.”

“Karen?”

“Her stepmother; what a bitch she was.  After Laura mentioned that she didn’t talk to her at the Stitch ‘n’Bitch I looked her up out of curiosity, you should see what she used to say about Laura on Facebook.  That woman would tell outright lies.  She insisted Laura went to Cornell because she couldn’t get in to a ‘decent’ school.  Truth was Laura was accepted to Stanford, Berkley and Princeton, she chose Cornell for the major.  She claimed Laura had some kind of a mental disability or illness when that girl was just about as sharp and balanced as you can get.  And she told everyone she was sleeping her way through the school; ever since she’s been missing she’s been telling all her friends that she ran off with some guy.”

“Did she?”

“No.  As far as I know she never dated anyone.  She was as quiet as a mouse.  Her stepmother just said those things to get her friends to pile on the sympathy, pity poor me I have such a horrible stepchild.  She had a jewel in that girl is what she had, and she never saw it.”

“No boyfriend.  Any friends?”

“Hmmm, she and Martha Walderman were very close; she goes out of her way to bring Martha’s orders out to her.”

“Do you have contact information for her?”

“Sure, back at the desk.  Hold on.”

While Hickory went to get the information Rossi looked around the room.  The walls were decorated with bright quilts, mostly with a modern art design.  “Are any of these hers?”  Rossi asked when Hickory returned.

“Yes, that one,” she pointed to the standout, a large piece in traditional shapes and quiet prints.  “It’s called a Farmer’s Wife sampler quilt; those are all quilt blocks published in _The Farmer’s Wife_ magazine between 1915 and World War II.”

“I notice it’s very different from the others.”

“Yes, these days most quilters are inspired by the Japanese philosophy of Wabi-Sabi and the works of the Gees Bend quilters.  The Wabi-Sabi aesthetic is sometimes described as one of beauty that is ‘imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete’; it embraces the idea of the imperfection.”  She indicated a few examples.    “The Gees Bend quilters are part of an isolated, rural African-American community who made quilts out of the materials they had around, old clothing and what every else they could find.  They wouldn’t cut the materials in order to cover the maximum amount of ground with a minimum of waste, resulting in large, irregular swaths of color.  The result was this kind of style.”  She indicated a few others.  “Both styles have been embraced by the modern art movement.”

“But she didn’t follow either aesthetic?”

“Not at all.  While she respected both as part of their cultures she said that embracing and celebrating imperfection denigrated all the women who tried so hard to express themselves through their precision over time.  To her it was as if we were saying that they were all silly, they could have just thrown anything together and been done with it.  She also said it was an excuse for women who didn’t really want to be doing things for their home, they just wanted to feel creative so they threw some pretty fabrics together with a sewing machine and called it art.”  Hickory laughed.  “You should have heard what she had to say about scrapbooking.”

“It sounds like she didn’t even embrace sewing machines.”

“Nope, that beast is entirely hand patched and hand quilted; she said it was the only way to get the heirloom quality she was looking for.  People were always so amazed when I told them that it almost scared them off.”

Rossi had a thought.  “Was there ever anyone who wasn’t scared off?  Anyone who really appreciated this?”

“Well, last fall some guy tried to buy it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, these two guys came in here and were looking at it for quite a while.  They asked about it and I explained her thoughts behind it, you know the artist and all.  They seemed quite taken with the whole thing, the shorter one offered up to a thousand for it but she turned him down.”

“Do you remember what they looked like?”

“Um, yeah.  We don’t get a lot of men in here so they kind of stand out.  One was taller and skinnier, with a dark beard, kinda dressed rough, like he worked with his hands.  The other was shorter and had a grey beard and a belly like Santa himself.”

“Did they leave contact information, in case she changed her mind?”

She thought a moment.  “You know…”  She went to look and within moments came back with a slip of paper.  The name was J. Kipling and there was a phone number.

Rossi was on his phone as soon as he could dial.  “Garcia I need you to run this number for me right now.” He rattled off the digits.

As Garcia checked Hickory’s eyes widened.  “Oh my god, was that them?  Were they stalking her?  Oh my god, they were in my shop?  Oh my god!”

“Did you give them any contact information for her?’

“No, I never do that, just in case.  But oh my god…”

It never took Garcia long.  “No good, it’s a prepay phone and it’s been dead for a while.”

Rossi sighed.  Maybe someone else would have more luck.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 09**   
**Wait Avenue Cooperative**   
**Cornell University**   
**Week 04**

JJ and Morgan had originally gone to the local police to check to see if anything was missing from the file they had.  It wasn’t, the LEO’s had their act together.  After that they headed to Laura’s residence to talk to her housemates.  While JJ went up to look over her room Morgan talked to the other manager of the house, Tonya, a woman who resembled his sister Sarah in both looks and temperament.  “So you and Laura were managers here?”

“On paper, in reality I was her number one minion.  The only thing Laura didn’t have was enough time, she could have run this place single-handed and do everything else if there were 28 hours in a day.”

“Have you known each other long?”

“Yeah, we’ve lived here for eight years now.”

“So you knew her pretty well.”

“Probably as well as anybody.”

“Tell me about her.”

“Well, she was friendly, pleasant, and easy to get along with.  House peacemaker, you know, she could mediate anything.  Really passionate about her field.  And she kept busy; I swear that girl didn’t know how to sit still.  Even if she was sitting she had something in her hands.”

“Busy, huh?  Did she keep a regular schedule?”

“You could set your watch by her.  Every morning she’d be up at 5:30, have a glass of milk and a scone and head on over to Newman Hall to work out.  She’d be back by 7, have two fried eggs with a slice of homemade toast and her first cup of tea, and then she’d head out for the day.  That’s how we knew something was wrong, she wasn’t in the kitchen.  I checked her room and realized her bed hadn’t been slept in, and she didn’t answer her phone, so I called security.”

“So she never slept away from the house?”

“Nope.  Not once in eight years.”

And you didn’t notice her missing the night before?”

“Friday night?  I had a date.”

“And she did the same thing every morning?”

“Every morning but Sunday.  Sunday she took over the kitchen and did nothing but cook and bake.  She’d load us up with bakery stuff, muffins, scones, fresh bread, and then she’d make brunch for the house, bacon and everything.  Her Sunday brunches were legendary.  We had to tell people that it was invitation only so we wouldn’t be swamped.  You could smell it from the road.  Then she’d fill it out with casseroles and chili and stuff so we’d just have to heat up for the rest of the week.  I’m telling you, the woman was a machine.”

“Has she been seeing any guys?”

“No.”

“Any girls?”

She chuckled.  “No, she was straight.  She just never got past the coffee or lunch stage, you know.  Never clicked with anyone, and she wasn’t the hook-up type.”

“What was she looking for, Superman?  Some romance hero?”

“She said the guy she wanted hadn’t been written about yet.  He’d have a backbone of steel wrapped in a thick down comforter of soft and gentle, and she was gonna hold out for him.”

“Did she have any close friends that you know of?”

“Um, she used to talk about a Martha.  She had dinner with her every Saturday night.”

“Did you ever meet her?”

“Who, Martha?  No, but if I ever do she’s getting a big hug from me.”

“Why?”

“She convinced Laura to go no contact with her stepmother.  That woman is a hot mess of crazy.”

“Oh?”

“For the first two years  or so that woman called her up to six times a day, how do I clean my oven, how do I wash this shirt, what’s the name of that dim sum place.  I kept telling her that that woman has to be over fifty, she ought to know how to run her own life but Laura kept saying it was all too hard for her and if she didn’t help then it wouldn’t get done and her father would suffer for it.  Or else she’d just call her to chat because Laura didn’t have anything better to do than listen to that woman ramble on about her boring ass day.”

“I thought her mother was a patent lawyer.”

“Was.  She retired when she married Laura’s father.  Now she’s pulling the society matron bit.  Finally that crazy said something that really hurt her, I mean Laura was shaken up for days.  Then someone, probably Martha, convinced her to cut off all contact.  She changed her number, told us all to not take any calls from that area code, and started calling her dad at the office.  She finally confronted her on Facebook before she deleted her account there; she said it had to be public to work.  That crazy never tried again, thank god.”

“How did Laura react to it?”

Tonya considered this a moment.  “What do you mean?”

Morgan gave her his best smile.  “Come on, all college kids drink.  Some try harder stuff.  Did she do anything like that to cope?”

“Nope.  The strongest drug she took was a hot cup of tea.  She was a big believer in clean living.  She used to say that you should either eat for fuel or eat for pleasure and she only had time to eat for pleasure on week-ends so she ate clean fuel, drank nothing but tea, water and milk, never smoked or took anything and hit the gym every day.  She said she needed the energy and honey, she did.”

“Okay, you told the cops no one noticed anyone hanging around, that right?”

“Oh yeah.  If you live in a house with fourteen other female grad students you’re going to run into a crazy-assed stalker or two, we all know what to look for.  No one saw any of this coming.  She went to the big box store for staples like she did every week, went to her Thursday night seminar after and then never made it out of the parking lot.  Just like that.”

“Did she ever mention the name Spencer Reid to you?”

“Nope.”

“Ever track any classes at Georgetown?”

“Not that I know of.”

Morgan pulled a picture of Spencer up on his tablet.  “This guy look familiar?”

“Nope.”

Morgan had an idea.  “How about a Dr. Joseph Bell.”

“No.”

“Did she ever talk about her father’s work?”

“Nope.  He’d come out two or three times a year, they’d have dinner at someplace nice and that was it.  I got the feeling that she cared about him but his loyalty to his current wife hurt her deeply.”

“Did she ever talk about her mother?”

“Oh yeah, she missed her hard.  A lot of that probably had to do with how suddenly she went, I mean one drunk driver and boom, Mom’s not coming home.  Her mom was a Home Ec major you know.”

“No, I did not know that.  Anyone else back home she was attached to?”

“Nope.  She said moving out of Cali was the best thing she ever did, that hot mess poisoned the well pretty thoroughly there.  The only thing she missed was the music; she likes her jazz West Coast style.”

“All right.  Well, I’m going to go join my partner and look over her room.”

“It’s exactly the way she left it.  The cops told us to leave it be.”

“Good, thank you.  Is there a place where I can reach you if we have any more questions?”

Tonya smiled.  “Are you asking for my number?”

Oh hello.  “Not…like that.”

She chuckled and pulled over a notepad.  “You want to make it like that?  Get my girl back first.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still open for questions and idea. The team members text each other so if someone finds something they can send it to another. And there will be more opportunities for questions coming up.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**   
**Sterling House**   
**Ithaca, NY**   
**Week 04**

“Thanks Garcia.”  Rossi hung up the phone and looked at Blake.  “She said this is the place.  This is the current residence of Martha Walderman”

“OK, this is not how I spent my Saturday nights in college.”  Blake replied as they headed for the front door.

“Same here.”  They approached the desk and flashed their badges.  “Hello, I’m Dave Rossi, this is Alex Blake; we’re with the FBI.  We need to speak with Martha Walderman; I believe she’s a resident here?”

“Oh, of course.”  The clerk checked her computer.  “Mrs. Walderman is in our stroke recovery wing.”  She pulled out a map of the facility and showed them.

“Stroke recovery?”  Blake asked quietly as they followed the directions through the halls of the assisted living facility.  But that was what they found when the nurse led them to Martha Walderman’s bedside, a woman well into her 80’s who had suffered a devastating stroke.  “When did Mrs. Walderman have her stroke?”  Blake asked.

“Oh, about four years ago now, this was her second.  Sometimes she’s more responsive than others but she’s been pretty much like this ever since.”  The nurse responded.

“Do you know a Laura Patterson?  She comes by on Saturdays.”

“Oh, I know Laura, everyone does.  She comes by every Saturday, brings her dinner and joins Mrs. Walderman while the aid helps her eat.  Then they watch an old movie together unless there’s a quilting gathering, and then they join the other residents.  They used to do things together, back before Mrs. Walderman had her second.  That one wasn’t as damaging.  We were all just so glad that she kept coming around, so many of our residents lose everyone when they end up like this.  And for all we know Martha is still in there, she just can’t respond.  We were all heartbroken when we heard what happened.”

“You said other residents, any chance we could talk to them?”

“Sure.  I believe they’re in the sun room.”

“Go ahead.”  Rossi said.  “I’ll catch up in a minute.”  Once they left he sat down beside the bed and took the elderly woman’s hand.  “Mrs. Walderman, my name is Dave Rossi, I’m with the FBI.  We’re looking in to Laura’s disappearance.  Now I’m not supposed to tell anyone this but we have good reason to believe that she’s still alive.  And a young man was taken with her, an FBI agent I’ve known for a while now.  He’s a great agent, probably one of the strongest and bravest men I’ve ever had the privilege to work with and I know he’ll do everything in his power to keep her safe.  I give you my word that we’re not going to stop until we get them home.”

Mrs. Walderman’s hand twitched in his.  When he looked up her eyes were full of gratitude and tears.

* * *

 

They joined the residents but got a lot of the same, sweet girl, nice, friendly, didn’t think anyone did the home ec thing anymore but she clearly loved it and they were happy for her.  No sign of anything creepy, nothing.  “Um, don’t take this wrong but why would a healthy young woman spend her Saturday nights here?”

“Instead of with a young man?”  One of the residents asked.  “She never found the right one is all.  Not for lack of trying, we set her up with every grandson, male nurse and young doctor we could find.  She had more lunch dates than I could count but after one or two she’d really sweetly say that they just didn’t hit it off.”

“She was too shy is what it was.”  Another woman said.  “She was too scared to open up.  She was friendly enough but it was all on the surface.  The only one who really knew her was Martha.”

“How did they meet?”

“Oh at one of those knitting nights, back when Martha was healthy enough to get to them.  Martha was a special education teacher back in the day, she said that Laura reminded her of some of her students and made it her business to get her to open up.  She always blamed that girl’s family, said that they taught her to build walls made of mirrors so you could think you were getting in but you never really saw her.”

“You only saw what you wanted to see.”  Blake nodded.

“It took a long time before that girl started talking to her.  I remembered back when she first started coming around, they would eat together and then watch some old black and white and all the while that girl wouldn’t say three words.  I asked Martha about it and she said patience would pay.”

“According to the owner of the yarn shop where Laura worked she was taking Martha’s orders and delivering them.”  Rossi said.  “But it doesn’t look like Martha has been up to ordering anything for a while now.  Could she have been delivering orders for anyone here?”

They all laughed.  “Martha hasn’t ordered any yarn for years.”  One told him.  “I don’t know where it was going but it wasn’t coming here.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**   
**Wait Avenue Cooperative**   
**Cornell University**   
**Week 04**

“OK, we’ll look.”  JJ hung up the phone.  “Why would someone buy yarn and fabric under a different name?  It’s not like its contraband.”

“I have no idea.”  Morgan was sitting at Laura Patterson’s work table, a large, folding table at one end of her dorm room.  He had just finished sending Garcia what she needed to hook into Laura’s computer.  “I don’t even know where to look in here.” 

They looked around the room again.  It was clean.  Not just clean but _clean_ , as in vastly less cluttered than any college dorm room in history.  And mostly it was institutional, she had gone with the furniture that came with the room and clearly had seen no need to heavily decorate.  “This room is so impersonal.”  JJ muttered.  “It’s more like a hotel room than anything.   Most women this age have a huge collage of personal pictures but she’s got…two.”  JJ picked up the one beside the bed.  “This must be her and her mom.  You can tell her mom loved her, you can see it.”

“And this must be her and Martha.”  He pointed to a picture of Laura with an older woman, all smiles and holding a quilt on their laps, that hung from the one of the two pieces of wall art in the room, a combination bulletin board full of class information, empty white board, full calendar, and hanging files full of papers.  “I’m not seeing her hiding anything in here though, this place is too organized.”

“And deeply private, she wasn’t sharing anything with anyone.  I don’t even see a journal anywhere.  I bet she made this quilt.”  The only bright thing in the room was the quilt on the bed, an old-fashioned, geometric style in bright colors.  JJ was checking her nightstand, “Although she does have a dildo at least, and quite the collection of erotica under here.  Miss Perfection definitely liked to dream about all the things you can do with a guy.  So why wasn’t she experimenting, college is perfect for that?”

Morgan shook his head.  “Until you said that I was going to say Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder but…this feels like a kind of rebellion to me.”

“Rebellion?”  JJ pointed to the only poster on the wall, “Serenity prayer.  Sure she wasn’t in a 12-step?”

“Everyone swears that girl was a straight arrow, a college kid who never even tried a beer.  Pardon the language but everything about this screams ‘fuck you, go away’ to me.”  Morgan looked around the room.  “JJ, what kind of table is that under the tea kettle?”

JJ went and started moving things off.  “It’s a trunk.”  She opened the top and her jaw dropped.  “You might be right.”

“Why?”

JJ reached into the trunk and pulled out a pair of tiny baby booties.  These were followed by a sweater carefully worked for someone barely larger than newborn, and then a knitted teddy bear.  “This is full of baby stuff from the looks of it.”

“Maybe she was hiding something.”  Morgan said.  “Let me get Garcia to dig deeper and I’ll let everyone know.”

* * *

 

**Homespun**   
**Ithaca, NY**

They met back at the yarn shop, having entered the trunk into evidence and hauling it out of there.  “Excuse me again.”  Rossi said to the owner.  “I wonder if you could help us a little further.”

“Sure.”  Hickory said, “If I can.”

“Do you have a list of everything Martha Walderman has ordered over the past four years?”

“In the computer, sure.”

“If I hand you finished products could you tell me if they were made out of materials she ordered.”

“Of course.”

He nodded to the trunk.  “Let’s go.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**   
**Week 04**

Hotch settled across the table from Andrew Patterson.  “Thank you for coming out Mr. Patterson.”

“Anything I can do to get Laura out of this mess.  I don’t know what she did this time.”

“This time?  She’s been in trouble before?”

“My wife has helped her out of a number of problems while she’s been out here, issues with drinking mostly; you know how college kids are.  Thankfully my wife knows a good lawyer out here; he’s been very helpful over the years.  He’d better be given what he charges.”

“Do you have the name of that lawyer?”

“I’d have to get it from my wife, she handles it.  I just pay the bills.”

“We know you’ve been out to visit, has she ever talked to you about her problems when you’re out here?”

“No, never.  My daughter is an excellent liar, if she doesn’t want to tell you she won’t.  My wife was always able to ferret out the truth, with her training and all of that.  That’s why Laura hasn’t wanted to talk to her for years.”

“I thought your wife was a patent lawyer, not a trial lawyer.”

“She is.  Well, was, but it’s all the same.”

“With all her issues out here why have you never insisted she return home?’

“She’s over 18; she can do what she wants now.”

“You could stop paying tuition.”

“I’m not.  That’s her mother’s money; it was set up in a trust, carefully invested.  She was from an old California family, old money and all.  I mean it’s not extravagant by today’s standards but it’s enough, you know.”

“Did you or your wife have issues with her choice of university?”

“Karen wanted her to go to Stanford, live at home to save cash.  With Laura’s intelligence she could have handled law school easily.  But no, she had to go across country to pursue this…nonsense.  It just seems like a waste but that’s Laura for you.”

“Why didn’t your wife come out with you?”

“She said she was tired of Laura’s antics, she probably ran off with some boy to get attention.  She’ll be back soon enough, probably pregnant and wasted to boot.”

Hotch just blinked at him.  “Sir, your daughter has been kidnapped against her will.  She is in danger.”  Patterson just looked away and didn’t answer.  “I know this is hard to accept…”

Patterson sighed.  “Agent Hotchner, I married my wife on impulse.  Shannon had been dead for less than a year, Karen and I had been dating for all of three weeks, and the sex was…it seemed like a good idea at the time, I don’t know why, but we went off to Vegas and I never signed a prenup….with the work I do a divorce would be…I don’t…”

Hotch suddenly understood.  “You don’t want to anger your wife.  You don't want her abuse to turn on you.”

“If Laura would just stop causing all these problems we would be fine, you know.  Just…please find my little girl.  Please.”

* * *

 

**Homespun**   
**Ithaca, NY**

By the time they unpacked it all they had traced every order.  Laura had been routinely placing orders in Martha’s name, paying cash, and then creating items to be placed in the trunk.  About two-thirds of the way through Garcia called back.  “What do you have for me baby girl?”

“Okay, I did a thing and I got into her medical records.  There is no indication anywhere ever of Laura Patterson having a baby.  Period.”

“You checked high school?”

“I did and nothing.  She even went to an all-girl private school.”

“Could she have had an abortion?”  Blake asked.

Hickory looked shocked.  “Not Laura.  She would never.”

“Then why would she have a trunk full of baby things?”

“Because these aren’t all baby things,” Hickory reached over and picked up a delicate, white lace length of knitted stuff.  “This is a wedding veil.  And that’s a table runner and this is...”  She picked up something that was skimpy and clearly meant for an adult female.  “…well…”

All of a sudden Blake blinked.  “It’s a hope chest.  She was making things for the future.”

“Now that fits the Laura I know.”  Hickory nodded.  “But why put it under Martha’s name?”

Just what they needed.  Another question.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**  
 **Week 05**

Finally, with the team returned, they assembled in the conference room and compared notes.  “So, what do we have?”

“To everyone outside her family circle Laura Patterson was the epitome of the low-risk victim.”  Rossi said.  “She didn’t drink or do drugs; she only dated in public places during the daylight hours, hell she was in bed every night by 10:30.  Her only close friend is an 80 year old stroke victim, with whom she spent every Saturday night.  She was practically Mary Poppins.”

“We looked into the stepmother’s accusations.”  Hotch said.  “They’re completely unfounded.  It looks like Karen Patterson was telling tales about her step-daughter to embezzle money out of her husband.”

“I still don’t buy it.”  Morgan said.  “No one is that good without some kind of reason behind it.”

“Well she isn’t that good.”  JJ pointed out.  “She had a healthy porn collection hidden away and she was buying stuff under someone else’s name.  It was like she was deliberately trying to look like she was doing right while accepting her own secrets.”

“But why keep secrets?  Why try so hard?  The only problem in her life was her stepmother who has convinced her father that Laura is the original wild child.”  Blake continued.  “What is going on there?”

“I think I might know.”  Garcia said.  “Okay, so Laura had no online life, no social media involvement at first glance, no Facebook, no Twitter, no blog, her e-mail was only for school, but then I realized that she’s a knitter.”

“So?”  JJ asked.

“So there is this place on the web called Ravelry.  It’s a social media site specifically for people who play with sticks and string; it’s a place where you can show off your stuff, swap yarn, check out patterns, all sorts of things.”  As she was talking Garcia was calling the site up on the big board.  “But they also have forums for just about every interest under the sun, there are knitters who also run, knitters who like Dr. Who, knitters who are associated with just about every business out there, the list is endless.  And for the record I do have an account there and we do have a group for FBI people who knit.  And on Ravelry, under the name HomeEcDoc I found her online world.  She was a member of no less than forty different interest groups.  Now most of these are what you would expect, she was a member of the groups for the classes at the shop where she taught, Cornell Knitters, she’s a Firefly fan; she likes to knit shawls, nothing really stood out, until I got to this one.”  Every group on her page had a pictoral button linking to the specific forum, but one just had a blank box.  That was the one Garcia clicked.

“Ravelers of narcissistic parents?”  JJ asked.

“There we go.”  Rossi replied.

“Narcissistic Personality Disorder is similar to Borderline Personality Disorder only without the annoying empathy.”  Blake said.  Narcissists have such an elevated sense of self-worth that they value themselves as inherently better than others. Yet, they have a fragile self-esteem and cannot handle criticism, and will often try to compensate for this inner fragility by belittling or disparaging others in an attempt to validate their own self-worth. It is this sadistic tendency that is characteristic of narcissism as opposed to other psychological conditions.”

 “They usually turn that sadism on one particular person in their lives, the scapegoat.”  Morgan continued.  “Because the narcissist cannot accept their faults, they spend their time trying to convince themselves that everything they do is perfect. When something goes wrong they can’t accept the blame so they must try to convince themselves and the people around them that the problems are coming not from them, but another source. In their mind, by blaming another, they absolve themselves of any wrongdoing, and they can continue to believe and strive to convince others that they are in fact, perfect. But they must first have someone to blame.  Enter the scapegoat.  The scapegoat is blamed for everything that goes wrong in the family, period.  They can do nothing right, any praise or success they earn takes something away from the narcissist.  In fact the more successful they are the more emotional abuse the narcissist will heap on them just to maintain their place in the family dynamic.  They have to be inherently bad or guilty or wrong in order to provide the narcissist with the support they need.”

“Usually the scapegoat is a child in the family.”  Rossi added.  “They don’t have the agency to fight back, to convince anyone in their circle that the narcissist is lying, and they’re unable to escape.  The child of the first wife is the perfect victim, everyone knows how stepchildren rebel.”

“That might have been part of what Martha Walderman saw in her.”  Hotch said.  “That might have been part of what she was helping with. The housemate, Tonya, said that Martha convinced her to go no contact.” 

Rossi looked over at JJ and Garcia.  “As hard as it sounds most of the time that’s the only way to cope with a narcissist, move to another community and sever as many ties as you can.  They’re going to keep poisoning the well, telling everyone in their circle that you’re a bad seed.  So you move to another circle, let them have their fun while you start a new, clean life.  That’s exactly what Laura did; she moved well away and started a successful life on her own terms.  That’s why she was such a straight arrow, the straighter her life, the more successful, the more she showed she could do everything just right, the more it hurt her stepmother, the ultimate good girl rebellion.  That even explains why she was making a hope chest under Martha’s name, it could well have been Martha’s idea, to give her the safety to have hopes and dreams that her stepmother couldn’t destroy.”

“And why she kept a porn collection rather than actually experimenting, she kept her sex drive where the stepmother couldn’t use it to shame and abuse her.  So…”  Blake sighed.  “Are we saying that what Spencer and Laura have in common is that they both grew up with mentally ill mothers?  Is that what the Unsub was looking for?”

“I doubt it.  Few people knew about Diana Reid’s illness.  And a narcissist looks fine from the outside, someone just doing background, even stalking, probably wouldn’t realize she was ill unless they knew what to look for.”

“But that’s the only commonality we’ve found so far.”  JJ pointed out.  “These two never crossed paths in any way.”

Blake groaned.  “Oh, I hate to say it but I wish I’d never met Spencer.”  She said.  “I want to just rip every memory I have out of my head and start fresh with his profile because I know we’re missing something and I just can’t figure out what.”

They were all quiet for a moment.  Then Hotch spoke up.  “Maybe we can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that "Maybe we can" mean more opportunity for questions, coming soon.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**   
**Week 05**

“Katie!”  Rossi beamed at the familiar figure coming in the door, trailing a brace of junior agents.

SSA Katherine “Katie” Cole came over and gave him a big hug.  “Dave.  I haven’t seen you in forever!  How have you been?”

“It’s been a long few weeks around here.  How’s the Innocent Images Unit doing?”

“Hopefully in good hands for a few weeks.”  She looked around as Hotch came over to them.  “All right, Aaron, we’re yours for as long as you need us.”

“Thank you.”  Hotch said.  “I know it’s asking a lot.”  He looked around at the team.  “Why don’t we go into the conference room.”  Once they were all settled he addressed the group.   “We should probably start with introductions, I know my team is familiar with Katie here, but I don’t believe you and Blake have met, Blake this is SSA Katherine Cole, but she prefers Katie.  She’s currently heading up the Innocent Images Unit.”

“Child porn and trafficking?”  Blake confirmed.

“Yes, but before that she was with the BAU for three years.  I worked with her when I first joined the unit.  Our teams worked a case together…six years ago but otherwise there hasn’t been a lot of crossover.”

“Meaning you don’t know Dr. Reid socially?”  Katie nodded, triggering Blake’s smile, “A profiler who doesn’t know Reid.  Perfect.”

“Katie, this is Alex Blake…”  And Hotch went on with the introductions, both his team and the agents Katie had brought with her.

But Rossi was the better teacher.  “For those of you unfamiliar with some of our techniques we’re been trying to run vicimiology in the Reid/Patterson case.  In our department this means going through every detail of the life of every victim to answer the question why.  Why this victim at this time, what do they have in common with the other victims that may have made them part of a class that met the Unsub’s desires?  If we can find out what he was looking for we might be able to learn something about him that will help us find him.”

“Sometimes it’s as simple as prostitutes with blond hair.”  Morgan said.  “Or women who remind him of his mother.  Sometimes it’s more complex, for example Samantha Malcolm chose victims who reminded her of a set of dolls she had as a child.  Karl Arnold and Miranda Jakar both chose families who reminded them of their families at the time that their families fell apart.  But in each case understanding the victims helped point the way to the killer.”

Hotch continued.  “The problem is that one of the victims is an agent from this unit.  More than that, he’s a friend.  We know him too well, we’re being blinded by our assumptions and we believe that because of this we’re missing something.  So we need your help.  You have access to all of his case files, to all of his records on his work outside of the Department, to his home and personal vehicle, any of us will sit for an interview, and there are funds budgeted for travel anywhere in the US.  Hopefully you can find what we’re missing.”

“Just so you all know.”  Rossi spoke up.  “Things may come up that need to stay off the official record.  If that happens calculate it in but discretely.”

“Rossi?”  Hotch asked.  “Will you liaise with Katie’s team?  You have the most experience.”

“Of course,” Rossi replied.

“Thank you.”  Hotch looked over at Katie.  “Good luck.”  And with that the rest of the BAU team left the room.

“Okay.”  Katie took over.  “Let’s start at the beginning.  Johnny, get with Garcia and go over his virtual life.  Peter, you and Lisa go over his case files, but don’t look only at the Unsubs, I want to know what Dr. Reid’s role was in each case.  Kelly, you and Mike start with his personal world, his desk here, briefcase, car and his apartment.  In between that you can help me with the interviews.”  She went and put a list on the white board:

  *  _Hotch_
  * _Morgan_
  * _Jareau_
  * _Blake_
  * _Rossi_
  * _Garcia_



Katie looked over at Rossi.  “What about his family?”

“His Mom, Diana Reid.”  Rossi replied.  “I’ll go with you on that one; we’ll have to head out to Vegas and interview her there.  It’s going to be a tricky one, she has Paranoid Schizophrenia.  JJ’s husband Will LaMontagne, I know he’s close with their family.  And…off the record?”

“Of course.”

“We can try to track down his sponsor.”

“Sponsor?”  It took a minute.  “AA?”

“NA.”

“One of her agents spoke up, “This guy?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Okay.”  Katie said.

  *  _Hotch_
  * _Morgan_
  * _Jareau_
  * _Blake_
  * _Rossi_
  * _Garcia_
  * _Diana Reid_
  * _Will LaMontagne_
  * _Bill W._



“Who else?”  She asked.

“Who else?”  Rossi asked, clearly confused.

“What about his father?”

“They’ve been estranged for years; I don’t think they keep in contact at all.”

“Any siblings?  Extended family?”

“Not that we know of.”

“What about a girlfriend?”

“He’s only had one and she passed away last year.”

“What about any friends, people he associates with outside of the job?”

“I know he teaches at Georgetown.  Blake’s your go-to on that.”

“What about outside of work entirely?”  Rossi was silent.  “So….you’re saying he doesn’t have a private life?”

Rossi was silent a little longer and then sighed.  “You know, ten minutes ago I would have said his life was an open book.  But he hid his relationship with Maeve Donovan for almost a year, none of us had a clue…”

“That’s not an open book.”  Katie pointed out.

“I know.”  Rossi replied.  “I’m glad you came out Katie.”

“Likewise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SSA Katherine "Katie" Cole was seen in episode 02x02 "P911"
> 
> OK, it's question time again. You have a list of people to interview, would you interview some or all of them? Where would you start? And what would you ask? Questions and answers will be incorporated into the story. Have fun.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15  
Week 05**

Kelly MacDonald and Mike Brennerman, both agents from the IIU team, were assigned to go through Agent Reid’s personal effects, starting with his briefcase down at the break table where they could spread out.  They found a lot of what they expected, files, notes for various classes, a couple of paperbacks waiting to be read, phone charger, a toiletry kit.  And they found a few unusual things.  “Are these magic tricks?”  Mike asked.

“I think so.”  Kelly took one, a pen and showed him how to make it move across the page. 

“Huh.”  He kept digging.  “Looks like he lived on sugar.  There are five candy bars in here and three packets of gummi bears.”

“The brain runs on glucose, a brain like his would need a lot of fuel.”

“Nice stationary.”  He pulled the pouch out of the bag. 

“Any letters in it?”

“No.”  He pulled out a handful of paper slips.  “Man, he spends a ton of time on the shooting range. “

“Let’s see.”  She took the paper slips and started organizing them.  “It looks like he goes twice a week.  I bet he’s good with all that practice.”

“Yeah, I bet.”  Mike ran his hands along the inside of the bag.  “That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

She blinked at him.  “Johnny said he hadn’t been assigned a tablet, he didn’t carry any electronic devices other than his phone, so, no paper organizer, no calendar, nothing like that?”

“Nope, not a thing.”

“Huh.”

* * *

 

While Mike went to check out Reid’s car in the impound lot Kelly took his desk.  She started with a long, slow look, then she walked around the other desks in the room, giving them each the once over.  “What?”  JJ asked her.

“Have you taken anything off this desk?”  Kelly asked in reply.

“Only case files, but those were all documented.  Why?”

Kelly sat and started going through the drawers.  Each one was meticulously organized, note pads here, paper clips there, and pencils ready to go.  It wasn’t hyper-organized, like you would expect from someone with OCD, but it was pretty close.  “Do you know who gave him that?”  Kelly asked at last, pointing to a lime green, heart shaped post-it note.

JJ looked.  “Yeah, my son, a while back.  Why?”

“Because that is the single personal thing on this desk; there isn’t a family photo, there isn’t a little toy; there isn’t even a menu to his favorite lunch place.  The only personal item is that heart and it doesn’t give a single hint to its meaning.”

JJ blinked at the desk.  “You’re…right.”  She admitted.  “But that doesn’t fit Reid.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.  He’s open.  He shares everything with everyone; his life is an open book.  I mean sometimes he babbles incessantly about what’s going on in his head.  He doesn’t hide anything from us.”

“Well, if I didn’t know better I’d say the person you’re describing and the owner of this desk are two completely different people.”

“Yeah.”

Mike joined her.  “We need to add a stop at his gym to the list.”  He told Kelly.  “I checked; he doesn’t use the one here.  We might try Georgetown.”

“Reid doesn’t go to the gym.”  JJ told them.

Mike looked at her.  “Then why was there a bag of seriously funky gym clothes in his trunk?”

JJ turned to a figure walking by.  “Hey Morgan?  Did you know Reid was hitting the gym?”

“Reid?”  He started chuckling, only to see the confused look on the IIU team’s faces.  “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Yeah,” Mike and Kelly just look at each other a long moment.

“Right,” Morgan nodded, suddenly fascinated by his coffee.  “Let us know what you find.”

* * *

 

 

The next stop was, naturally, his apartment.  No doorman, of course.  “Does he know his neighbors well?”  Mike asked Rossi.

“I have no idea.”  Rossi replied as he let them in.  “The apartment is exactly the way he left it, with the exception of cleaning out his fridge.  There wasn’t anything in the trash to take out; it looked like he had done it that morning.  The last time we were here we were looking for any indication that he was in some kind of trouble, but we didn’t find anything.”

“Books,” Kelly murmured as they went inside. 

“I hope we only have to go through the important ones.”  Mike said.

“Given that he went through something like fifteen a week I think these are all important ones.”  Rossi replied.   He settled into a leather chair by the door and watched for once.

“Great.”  Mike groaned.  He started looking around the place, inch by meticulous inch.

Kelly went to the closet sized kitchen where she started opening cupboards.  “Very bachelor.  Loves his coffee and tea, does not cook, likes his takeout spicy, Indian, Thai, Asian.  Hmmm, this magnet is from a coffee place that doesn’t deliver, we’ll have to check there.  But…he has a shelf full of cookbooks.”  She pulled out a few and brought them to the door.  “Not exotic stuff either, this is all comfort food.”

“Huh.”  Mike replied.  “No conversational group, he doesn’t have company over.  Cozy, this is clearly a private space. Chess set, I wonder who he plays.”

“Himself, most likely,” Rossi replied.  “He’s well-ranked, loves the game.”

“Okay. His car originally belonged to his Mother, I bet that record player and his phone did as well, he is the original Luddite.”  He turned to the couch.  “But when it counts he spends, this blanket looks to be authentic.”

“He is from Vegas, he’d known genuine western from crap.”  Kelly pointed out.  She crouched down.  “I think the rugs are authentic as well.  The art doesn’t fit someone his age though, and they’re not very good quality.  You know, it almost feels like he just dragged his mother’s stuff out here to get things started and never changed it.”  She looked behind a picture, then another.  “D. Reid.  This one too.  And these books.”  She put the one she was holding back.  “None of this is actually his.”

“So you think he’s still attached to the past?” Mike asked.  He turned to Rossi.  “What was his childhood home like?”

“His father abandoned the family when Reid was seven; he had to care for his mother on his own; paranoid schizophrenia.”

Mike sighed.  “He’s not attached to the past.  When did he come out here?”

“When he was eighteen, I don’t know what he did before Gideon got him into the BAU”

“Eighteen, new job, no mother or father to help out, but probably the kind of job that pays moving costs.   So he packed up the furniture that he had available and brought it out here.”  Kelly sighed.  “None of this is personal.  Where are the family photos?”

Mike looked around.  “Good point.  There isn’t a single personal photo anywhere in here.”

“He’s so closed down he can’t even open up in a private space.”  Kelly wandered toward the bedroom and bathroom.

Meanwhile Mike looked at the box on the coffee table.  “Letters,” he said.  “What is this?”

“His girlfriend Maeve Donovan,” Rossi replied.  “The entire relationship was conducted by correspondence and over the phone.  They actually met face to face moments before she died.”

“How did she die?”

“Murder/suicide.  She had a stalker, a former student, who finally caught up with her.”

“And Dr. Reid saw the whole thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Ouch.”

“What is this?”  Kelly asked from the bedroom.

They both went to look, and found her taking pictures of the room.  She indicated a drawing in a simple, contemporary frame, the only such piece in the apartment.  It was three stick figures, two large, the one in the middle small, done in crayon by a very young artist.  “This and those cookbooks are the only unique things in this apartment.  Any idea who the artist might be?”

“Probably Henry LaMontagne,” Rossi replied, “His godson.”

“Godsons give lots of drawings.  Why was this one special enough to frame and hang across from his bed?”

Rossi sighed.  “I have no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll start here to give you all a chance to ask more questions. So far I think you're on the right track.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16  
Week 06**

If you live in Washington DC and you are even remotely serious about the game of chess eventually you make your way to Dupont Circle.  There virtuosos of the game from all over the world gather in casual competition.

It didn’t take long for people to recognize Reid’s picture.  They showed it to everyone they found there, and slowly were funneled toward a young Asian man with a skateboard under his seat who was just finishing a game.  “Eric Lee?”  Mike asked.

“Yeah, who wants to know?”  He showed him his badge.  He almost immediately looked slightly guilty.  “I know someone I can call…”

“Spencer Reid?”  The young man nodded.  “He’s missing.  That’s why we’re here.”  He settled in across from him.  “Tell me about him.”

“No wonder he hasn’t been around.  He’s probably the best technical player we have out here.  If you’re not a grandmaster slumming you better be in it for the learning experience.”

“Is that why you played against him a lot?”

“Yeah.  Losing against him made me a better player.”

“Has he been acting weird lately?”

“Define weird, and define lately.”

“Say, the past year.”

“You mean since Mrs. Robinson died?”  He said that with contempt.  “Yeah, he stayed away for months. Didn’t come back until the spring, and even then he was off his game.  Not aggressive enough.  Granted, he’s been getting better.”

“Mrs. Robinson?  Maeve Donovan?  I take it he told you about her?”

“Yeah he told me.  I accidentally interrupted one of those phone calls of his one day. Man, that whole relationship was fucked up.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The chick would only let him call her once a week, had to go to a different pay phone every time.  He said that she didn’t want her crazy stalker coming after him.”

“So?”

“So? He’s frikken FBI!  I had a crazy stalker on my ass I’d have Reid camping out in my living room.  And that bullshit about once a week and a pay phone, my ass the FBI doesn’t hand out scrambled phones to their agents; else every reporter in the country would be listening in on every case.  No, she was just manipulating his ass or something, trying to make him act like he was some horny teen-ager.  Must have been some kind of turn-on for her.”

“Did he agree with you?”

“I pointed that out to him after, like a lot after, when he’d had time to get over it some.  You know.  I told him he needed a woman who saw him as a man, not like all misogynist and shit but one that at least treated him like a grown-up and trusted him to do his job.  That Maeve didn’t trust him worth crap.”

“What did he say?”

“He saw it, but he said he didn’t know where he would find one.  He said it was kind of a fluke thing, her writing to him just when he wanted to talk to someone with her background about those headaches of his.”

“Headaches?”

“Yeah, back when that chick in his unit died, only she didn’t or some such shit, right around then.  He had to go in and get tested for, like, brain cancer or something.  Didn’t tell me until it was over, man that was fucked up.  I told him I would have helped him out like when I helped him move but he said he didn’t want to bother anyone.”

“When did he move?”

“Um, a couple of years ago.  Right around the time that chick from his unit turned zombie.”

“Zombie?”

“Eric grinned at him.  “Yeah man, came back from the dead.”

“Did anyone from his unit come to help?”

Eric shook his head.  “Nah, just him and me and he hired some guys from Georgetown.”

“Did he say why he moved?’

“He said some creepy guys had been hanging around, he was living under someone house, he didn’t want to bring them trouble.”

“Have you seen any strangers around here?”

“Dude, there’s always strangers around here.”

Mike pulled out the two sketches they had.  “This one’s supposed to be tall and skinny, this one real fat in the belly.”

Eric considered.  “I’ve seen this one.”  He pointed to the first.  “He came around back in the fall a lot.  Liked to watch the games.  Watched Spencer a lot, even played with him a few times.  You know what, hang on.”  Eric pulled his phone out and started paging through pictures.  “Here’s the guy.”  He pointed to one.  In the background, behind what must have been Eric’s girlfriend du jour was a tall, rangy man in a plaid flannel shirt and cap watching Spencer play another man.  Not the best picture, but it fit the description.

“Can we have a copy?”

“Sure.”  Eric sent it.  “You get Reid back; tell him he owes me a game, and a pizza.”

“Will do.”

* * *

 

They went to Reid’s previous address to check.  It was one of those row houses with a ‘garden’ apartment in the basement.  The owners confirmed Eric’s story.  “Did you see the men who were hanging around?”  Mike asked.

“Yes, a couple of times.”  The owner replied.  “I’m just sorry Dr. Reid felt like he had to move, he was a fantastic tenant.” 

“Was this one of them?”  Mike showed her the picture from Eric.

She shook her head.  “No.”

“Hang on.”  Rossi found some pictures and called them up on his tablet.  “How about any of about these?”

“Yes, that one and….um…that one.”

Rossi nodded.  “Thankfully those are no longer a problem.  Unusual question, did you take any pictures before he moved out, maybe for the security deposit?”

“Yes, we did.  I can send them to you.”

“Please do.  And thank you very much for your help.”

As they left Mike gave Rossi a questioning look.  “Members of Doyle’s gang, Valhalla,” Rossi told him.  “It confirms Eric’s story, Reid moved while they were still looking for Doyle’s son.”

“Look at these pictures.”  Kelly said when they were on the sidewalk.  The pictures of Reid’s former home showed the same furniture, but now the mantle, side table, hallway and fridge were crowded with framed family photos.  “He shut down after the Doyle case.  We need to look at that file.”

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17  
Week 06**

According to Reid’s financials he was still paying for membership at the CalTech faculty club.  They hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but to the IIU team it seemed odd so they looked into it.  Turned out the CalTech club had a reciprocal agreement with the University Club in DC.  “Is Dr. Reid in regular attendance here?”  Kelly asked the desk clerk, quietly.

He checked the computer.  “It looks like Dr. Reid primarily avails himself of the fitness center.”  He said.  “He checks in about three times a week in the evening.”

Bingo, a quiet gym with no teen-agers.  Kelly called up Eric’s picture on her tablet.  “Have you ever seen this man around?”

“No, I have not.”

“How about this man?”  She showed the sketch.  “He’s shorter, very portly, grey hair.”

The clerk thought a bit.  “Yes, I believe he has been here.  He was a guest of one of our members, he’s not a regular.”

“Do you have a name?”

“Oh…it was months ago.  I’m sorry.”

“You said Dr. Reid primarily avails himself of the fitness center.”  Rossi said.  “Does he ever use any of the other facilities?”

“He and Mr. Petrossian occasionally book the secure meeting room for the evening.”

“Secure meeting room?”

“Ah, the technical term is a SCIF.  We installed one some years ago at the request of our members.”

“Do you have contact information for Mr. Petrossian?  Does he have a first name?”

“Mr. Harvey Petrossian.  I do, but he stepped into the periodical room a few minutes ago; a shorter gentleman, balding, wearing a blue tie.”

“Perfect.  Thank you.”  The three agents followed directions into the periodical room.  There they found three men reading, but only one fit the description.  “Harvey Petrossian?”

The man in question looked up.  “Yes?”

They showed their badges.  “We’re with the FBI; we need to ask you a few questions.”

Harvey Petrossian calmly stood, smiled, and walked out of the room.  The three agents stared at each other a moment.  By the time they reached the hallway he was gone.  “What the hell?”  Mike asked.

“I have no idea.”  Rossi replied.

* * *

 

In the meantime Katie was sitting in a diner across town with a DC Metro detective who would be listed in her notes as ‘Bill’, a friend of Reid’s.  “Thank you for meeting with me; I know how difficult this is for you.”

“So long as this stays strictly off the record,” ‘Bill’ replied.  “We’re not supposed to talk about it but Spencer’s been gone too long.  He’s in trouble, I want to help.”

“Let’s start at the top.  Is he clean?”

“Yep.  Has been for over five years now.  How he managed it I’ll never know, but he has.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Some of the crap he’s been through.  Got shot for one thing, and never touched it after he left the hospital.  And that was, what, two weeks after he got out for something else.”

“What?”

“Couldn’t tell me.  Said it was National Security.”

“Was he tempted?”

“Not then.”

“When?”

“When his partner died.  I didn’t get all the details but some ex-boyfriend or something.  Or so they told him at the time.”

“Told him?”

“Yeah, turned out his unit lied to him, she didn’t die.  They sent her away to recover, cover her ass while they hunted down the guy who did it.  To be honest if someone did that with my partner I’d quit, and advised him to do that.”

“In this economy?”

“Uh, yeah, you do realize he has that whole three doctorate genius thing going?  He said he wouldn’t leave his friends.   I pointed out that friends don’t pull that crap, they don’t manipulate you, but he wouldn’t listen.  You ever hear the term learned helplessness?”

“He believed that being manipulated by people he thought he could trust was normal?  He didn’t react at all?”

“Yeah, he reacted. He shut down tight and let them give him all the crap they wanted. He became Mr. Pleasantly Bland, everything is hunky dory; I’m keeping everything in.  And let me tell you he is a master at that game, I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend let alone that she’d had her brains blown out right in front of him until whatshisname, LaMontagne, came around looking for him.  And I don’t blame him for it, I know cops give you crap when they like you but some of the people in his unit took it too far.  There’s this one chick, joined up as a liaison a couple of years before him, but got promoted to full on SSA _nine years_ after him and they treat her like she ranks him, let her treat him like some baby brother.  Another guy in her unit’s just as bad.  Now I know he’s a little weird but come on.  They need to have a union to deal with that crap.”

“So he never told you about Maeve Donovan?’

“Was that her name?  Nope, never a word.  Trust me, to make the mistakes we made and keep going you have to compartmentalize, and I mean compartmentalize hard.  Nothing in one part of your life crosses to the next, not ever.  He was a master of that game too.”

“If he wasn’t sharing why did he keep going to group?”

‘Bill’ gave her a patient look.  “Little secret, he’s not the only Fed.”

Katie nodded.  “And if he stopped showing up they would assume he was having problems again.”

“Yeah.  So he burned one night a month sitting there to keep up appearances.”  ‘Bill’ sipped his coffee again.  “I still don’t know how he managed to sit still that long, not that he ever really did.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know, he twitches.  Sits in the back and makes these silly little drawings just to keep moving.  If he doesn’t have some toy or something to keep his hands busy he starts rocking like one of those little kids with the…the…”

“Autism?’

“Yeah, that.  Babbles like them too sometimes.  But he’s a dammed good cop, being weird’s no excuse for keeping him the baby of the unit.  He ever wants out of there tell him DC Metro will gladly have him, he’ll get respect there.”

“I’ll let him know.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18  
Week 06**

The next day, while her team interviewed people at Georgetown, Katie stopped by to interview JJ, Will and Henry.  “So, has he been different lately at all?  I mean outside of work?”

“Not that we’ve noticed.”  JJ told her.

“Does he come around often?”

“He tries to see Henry every Sunday, either we go to a park after church or he comes by here.”

“He used to come around a lot more though.”  Will pointed out. 

“When was that?”  Katie asked.

“When we thought Emily was dead,” he replied.  “He was here nearly every night for a while.”

“The Doyle case, right?”

“That was a difficult time.”  JJ said quickly. 

Katie nodded.  “Did he come around after Maeve Donovan died?”

“No.”  JJ replied.  “I don’t think he left the house for the first two weeks.  His first case back was kind of rocky but after that he was…back to normal.”

“Kind of rocky?”

“I don’t think he was ready to come back but we hit a stalemate with the case we were on and the Unsub was escalating, so Morgan called him to get his input, next thing we know he flew out commercial to join us.”

“Right,” Katie pulled her tablet out.  “Does this guy look familiar?”

“No…”  Will said.

“Yeah.  Yeah, he does.”  JJ replied, her brow frowning.  “Damn it.”  She got up and fetched her own tablet.  “Henry’s last birthday.  We had it at the zoo.”  In the foreground was a very happy Henry blowing out his candles.  And way in the back was the tall, rangy stranger.   “He came up to me, it was casual, Henry was hanging around Spence like he always does, and he asked if Spence was Henry’s father. I didn’t think anything of it.  God.”

Katie nodded.  “So Henry and Reid are close?”

“Very.”  JJ replied.  “Henry even insists on dressing like him for Halloween every year.”

“And you’re not jealous?”  Kate asked Will.

“Nah, Henry knows who his daddy is.”  Will replied with an easy smile.

“Think I could talk to Henry for a minute?”

“Sure.  He’s in the kitchen.” 

Sure enough, Henry was sitting at the kitchen table, happily coloring.  “Hey Henry, my name’s Katie.”  She said gently.  “What are you drawing?”

“A dinosaur.”

“Really?  Wow, that’s some impressive artwork.”  She called a picture up on her tablet.  “Did you draw this one?”

Henry nodded.  “I drewed it for Spencer.”  He told her.

“Oh.  It’s very well done.  Can you tell me who these people are?  Who’s this one?”  She pointed to the large male stick figure.

“That’s Spencer.”

“Ah.  I see the resemblance.  And who is this?”  She pointed to the female figure.

“That’s the mommy.”

“His mommy?”

“No.”

“Your mommy?”

“No.”

“Then who’s mommy?”

“His.”  Henry pointed to the smaller figure.

“And who is he?”

“A boy just like me.”

“So you drew Spencer with a boy just like you and a mommy?”  Henry nodded.  “Why?”  Katie asked.

“’Cause he said he wanted one.”

“A picture like this?”

“No, a boy just like me.”  Henry sighed with frustration at the dense adults around him.  “I said he should go ask his mommy and Spencer said he hadn’t found his mommy so I drew a mommy too.”

“Ohhh, that makes sense.  “I think Spencer likes this a lot, he even put it in a frame.  Real art gets frames you know.”

Henry was quite please with this.  “Yeah!”

* * *

 

Later that day it was Alex Blake in the hot seat.  “So you knew Reid before you returned to the BAU?”  Katie asked.

“Yes.  He’s a regular guest lecturer in my Forensic Linguistics class.”  Bake replied. 

“Close friends?”

“I wouldn’t say so.  More like familiar colleagues.”

“And yet he told you about Maeve Donovan before he told anyone else in the unit.”

Blake sighed.  “He didn’t want to open up to the others, specifically Morgan and JJ.”

“Why not?”

“He didn’t want to get teased.  And he was, by Morgan as soon as he even had a suspicion, ooo the player has a lady now, what you gonna do with her hot stuff.”  Blake sighed again.  “I honestly wonder why Hotch allows it sometimes.”

“Oh?”

“While they were hired within a year of each other Reid has _nine years_ seniority over JJ at their rank And Morgan has less than a year over Reid.  He has a wealth of knowledge a fairly new profiler like JJ could be learning from and yet they treat him like a child.  Now I know it’s not easy working with an Aspie but these are grown people who are supposed to be experts in psychology, they should be able to handle it.”

“So Reid does have Asperger’s?  He has been diagnosed?”

“I don’t know, but he has most of the symptoms, the hyperfocus, some stimming behavior, I believe he was diagnosed hyperlexic as well.  I would honestly be surprised if he doesn’t have it.  I know he participated in a research project about it through Simon Frasier University up in Vancouver but I don’t know what that entailed.”

“Do you think they way they treated him bothered him?”

“The way he was acting concerning Maeve Donovan, yes.”  Blake replied.  “But it wasn’t enough for him to leave.”

“Could he have left?”

“He could have stepped into a teaching position at Georgetown, half the work at the same salary.  Or gone into the private sector and added a zero to the end of his salary.  He stayed with the unit because he wanted to.”

“What do you know about the Doyle case?”

“Nothing, it was before my time.  Some cases a team just doesn’t discuss and in this unit that’s one of them”

“Any idea why?”

“They seem embarrassed about it.  No one wants to talk about it at all.”

“Right.”

* * *

 

Later that day Katie spotted Rossi walking to his office.  “Hey Rossi?”  She called to him as he walked past the door to the conference room.

“Yeah?”

“Ready to go to Vegas?”

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19  
Week 06**

“I am so sorry about this.”  Dr. Norman said.

Katie was sitting in one of the exam rooms at Bennington, her shirt off, her eye darkening, numerous bruises and scratches popping out on her flesh.  One of the nurses was calmly going about treating her wounds while Rossi and Dr. Norman waited on the other side of the curtain.  “You don’t have to apologize.”  Katie told him.  “She’s ill.  She lost control.  Does she do that often?”

“Her condition has been destabilizing, it has since her son went missing.  It’s from the stress.  She tends to fall into the delusion that someone is a man names Gary Michaels, apparently a pedophile that went after Spencer when he was much younger, and who actually murdered a friend of his.”

“I’m familiar with the file.  Thank you.”  The nurse left and they heard the sounds of Katie getting dressed.  “Did she ever become delusional and attack Spencer?”

Dr. Norman sighed.  “When Spencer brought her here it was because her attacks had become too violent and there was no longer enough down time between them for him to recover.  He just couldn’t handle her anymore.”

“That was after his time at CalTech.”  Katie stepped around the curtain as she tucked her shirt in.  “Did she go on these rampages before he left?”  Dr. Norman was going to say something but he just sighed and nodded.  “And CPS never stepped in?”

“As I understand it Spencer’s intelligence allowed him to pretend that nothing was wrong at home and make it quite convincing.”

“Right.  Thank you for all your help.”  They bid their good-byes and left Bennington.

“I’m sorry about that.”  Rossi said.  “I didn’t know she had it in her.”

“That’s all right.  I wasn’t trying to provoke it but I expected it.”  Katie had her phone out.  As they walked he heard her calling her tech.  “Johnny?  Yeah, I want Laura Patterson’s early educational record.  Yeah, pre-college, pre-high school preferably, any academic testing.  No, we’ll stop here and get Reid’s.  Yeah, thanks.”

“Got something?”  Rossi asked.

“Maybe.  If I ask you about the Doyle case are you going to tell me anything useful?”

“The Doyle case?  We closed that two years ago.  You think that has something to do with this?”

“Indeed I do.”

* * *

 

 

**Week 07**

When Rossi got to work the next time he found Hotch waiting for him in the hallway in front of the SCIF.  “What did I miss?”  Rossi asked.

“Katie is in the SCIF with the Director interviewing Harvey Petrossian.”  Rossi pointed to the other end of the hallway where the Director of the FBI was talking with Strauss.  “The Director of the NSA.  Petrossian is a cryptologist.”

“And she didn’t want us in on it?”

“We don’t have a high enough security clearance to talk to him.”  Again Rossi pointed to the other end of the hallway.  “Neither does Strauss or our Director.”  Hotch informed him.

Rossi just blinked.  “Reid meets with this guy privately on a regular basis.  How high a clearance does Reid have?”

“I don’t know.”  Hotch chuckled a little.  “Apparently no one else in the FBI has a high enough clearance to get that information.”

Just then the door opened.  Petrossian, the NSA Director and Katie left with quiet smiles and farewell handshakes.  Petrossian nodded to Rossi and gave him a sheepish smile as he left but he still didn’t say a word.  Katie just sighed and shook her head as four sets of expectant eyes looked at her.  “Nothing.  They haven’t had a security breech, Mr. Petrossian hasn’t seen either of our Unsubs; there’s been no indication that he’s been tracked at all.  Whatever this is it has nothing to do with the NSA.”

“If only it had been that simple.”  Their Director sighed.

The three agents headed back to the BAU offices.  “No pressure Katie, but how close are you?”

“Very, I think.”  She replied.  “But I don’t know that it’s going to help all that much.  I’m consulting with an expert this afternoon.”

“From outside the Bureau?”  Rossi asked.

“Yeah.  We should be able to give the profile tomorrow.  But right now, Hotch, you’re up.”

* * *

 

They sat down in the conference room.  This was deliberate on Katie’s part, she wanted the sense that they were working together, and not that Hotch had the power of the desk.  “So this is the part where I ask you what Reid is like to work with and you tell me that he’s pleasant, friendly, gets along with everyone, is efficient, reliable, and there’s no one you’d rather have at your back in a crisis.  And then I ask you if anything in his behavior has changed lately and you tell me no, he’s been on time, no unusual time off, nothing stands out at all.  Am I right?”

“So far,” Hotch agreed.

“So let’s get to the meat.  Start with the Maeve Donovan case.  Did you or anyone on your team have any idea that he was seeing someone?”

“Not until about a month before the case exploded.  Blake and Garcia found out when he consulted with Dr. Donovan on a case we were working on.”

“He brought her in on a case?”

“He suspected that the Unsub was a medical doctor who was attempting a leg transplant.  He thought that it might be because he was trying to help a family member who lost their leg through a genetic anomaly.  Dr. Donovan was a geneticist.  She did help solve the case before we lost the last victim.”

“All right.  Now I know once the Replicator alerted him to Dr. Donovan’s stalker having found her he asked the team for assistance.  Would you say he was desperate at that point?”

“Very.  I’d never seen him in such a state.”

“What happened after?”’

“He was out for two weeks, but I told him to take the time he needed.  I know how it can be.”

“Understandable.”  Katie said gently.  “Why did he come back?”

“As I understand it Morgan called to consult with him on a case.”

“You guys couldn’t solve it without him?”

“We…probably would have eventually.  But…”

“But?”

“Garcia doesn’t work well when any of her family are in trouble.  I think Morgan placed the call because he knew Reid would respond and Garcia would hear his voice.”

“So he manipulated Reid and interrupted his grieving process to make Garcia feel better?”  Katie asked.

Hotch blinked.  “I…I didn’t think of it that way.”

“When Reid joined you in San Francisco did he appear ready to return to work at all?”

“Honestly no.  But the case seemed to help; by the time we flew home he seemed to be back to his old self.”

“So he recovered completely in…”  Katie checked her notes.  “…less than twelve hours while working through a case.”

“He appeared to.   He even took everyone up on their offer of help.”

“Help?”

“They asked if they could do anything and he had them come over and help him clean up his apartment.  He’d gone through all of his books, they were everywhere.”

“He couldn’t do that himself?” 

Hotch blinked again.  “You think he did that for them?  Giving them something to do to make them feel better?”

Katie didn’t answer that question.  Instead she moved on.  “Tell me about the Doyle case.”

“The Doyle case?”

“Specifically about the clean-up after the initial encounter.”

“You mean what happened with Emily.”

“Yeah.”

“She was badly injured; she nearly died on the table.  She was going to need months to recover and she needed the space and safety to do so.  So we hid her.”

“You turned her over to the US Marshall’s service?  Witness protection.”

“No, we did it.”

“Your team?”

“No, JJ and I.   She used some of her contacts at State and we had help from Emily’s old supervisor at Interpol.”

“Without authorization.”

“Yes.”

“And you told the rest of the team that she was dead?”

“Yes.”

“Did you follow SOP after?”

“No.”  Hotch admitted.  “I handled the grief counseling myself.”

“Do you have that kind of training?  Specifically, in providing grief counseling to people on the autism spectrum with abusive backgrounds and addiction issues?”

Hotch was quiet a moment.  “No.”

“I have the file on the Cy Bradstone case. It was first case after Prentiss returned.  Morgan filed an unusual incident report, apparently Reid and JJ had a blow up at the station?”

“He was upset.”

Katie sighed.  “You two completely forgot to take his past into account, didn’t you?”

“We had other things on our mind.”

“Did you two stay in contact with Emily at all?”

“She and JJ played online Scrabble together.  It was dangerous and foolish, I know…”

“According to Morgan’s report Reid, quote, was at her house every night for ten weeks straight, crying, unquote.  Was she playing while Reid was at her house fighting his cravings?”

“Possibly.”

“What did you tell him?  What explanation did you give for why you lied?”

“We said we were following orders.  We had to keep it secret to protect her.”

“But you didn’t know about his clearance then?”

“No.”

“Because by all rights with a clearance like that they would have put him in charge of the op, right?”

“Yes.”

“So he would have known that you were still lying.”

“Yes.”  Hotch sighed and the stone face cracked revealing his distress. 

“What?”  Katie asked.

“During the grief counseling  he said that the last time he’d been in counseling was after his father left, that everyone wanted him to talk but that he wasn’t capable.  He was only capable of saying what others wanted to hear.  And I told him that he didn’t have to do that here.”

Katie just looked at him.  “And all the while you were lying through your teeth.”  She said.  “OK profiler, looking back how did he react to it?”

“He lost trust and shut down.  He started telling us exactly what we wanted to hear.  We went to Rossi’s for a cooking lesson after that case and he showed up like nothing had happened, which, upon hindsight, makes no sense unless he was putting on a show.  He concealed personal information and hid his grief because he could no longer trust us with it.”  Hotch was starting to blink back his own emotions.  “We made him vulnerable because we forced him to isolate himself, didn’t we?  This is our fault.”

“Let me consult with my expert and give you the profile.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, time for the profile. If you want to weigh in, say what you think might be going on, what Reid and Laura have in common, this is the time and the place.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20  
Week 07**

That afternoon the expert Katie had promised showed up.  They spent the rest of the day camped out together in the conference room going over the piles of information they had gathered.  The BAU team was naturally curious, but by the end of the day they still didn’t know anything.  Katie and her expert were still going at it when they left.

The next morning Katie, whose black eye was coming along nicely, sat both teams down for the profile, including Strauss.  “Ok, the Unsubs we’re looking for are white males, probably in their late 40’s to 50’s.  We believe one or both of them are independently wealthy, they don’t need to show up for work or to manage a business, they can travel for long periods of time and at least one of them has the connections and experience to breech the University Club and not stand out.  That says money and power.  We don’t know exactly what they were doing but we know they needed people with an unusual combination of traits to do it so we suspect this might be some kind of scientific or engineering project, they’re developing something for them and it’s something less than legal, or else they’re the guinea pigs.  Whoever they are they are highly security minded and will be outwardly friendly while using their money and position as a shield to cover their activities.”

“Guinea pigs?”  JJ asked with a small shudder.

Katie nodded.  “We suspect they were profiling for genetics, specifically they were looking for people with all of the positive symptoms of Asperger’s syndrome and none of the negative.  Now at first glance our victims seem to have very little in common, they’re both Caucasian and they both hold at least one doctoral degree, or are near to completing one.  However we’ve come to the conclusion that both victims have Asperger’s.  But because the negative symptoms of that syndrome have been masked they were never formally diagnosed.  We believe that that masking effect is what fooled the Unsubs into believe that they had hit the genetic jackpot and what brought them into contact with these victims at this time.  This was not a random crime; they deliberately stalked both victims for months before they made their move.  They wanted these two and no one else.”

“What do you mean by masking the negative symptoms?”  Strauss asked.

“I think I’ll leave this part up to the expert.”  Katie gestured for her guest to take the floor.  “This is Dr. Amanda Cargill; she’s from the Kennedy Kreiger Institute in Baltimore and is an expert on the effect of abuse and trauma in children and adolescents with ASD.”

  “Thank you.”  Dr.  Cargill smiled and nodded to everyone.  “Like other ASD forms, Asperger’s syndrome is characterized by impairment in social interaction accompanied by restricted and repetitive interests and behavior; it differs from the other ASDs by having no general delay in language or cognitive development.   In fact in many cases, such as with Dr. Reid and I believe it’s Dr. Patterson now language and cognitive development can be anywhere from above average to highly advanced.  While neither victim was ever formally diagnosed with Asperger’s both were diagnosed with Hyperlexia, defined as the spontaneous development of sound-symbol relations in the brain.   In other words being able to read words before the age of two and full sentences before the age of three.  This used to be a separate diagnosis but now we realize that this is a hallmark of Asperger’s.  The other so-called positive trait is one of hyperfocus.  An individual with Asperger’s can focus in on a specific topic or interest with extreme intensity and keep it up for hours or even days without needing a distraction.  This affects social interaction, of course, but is a trait usually valued by employers.  And these traits can enhance natural intelligence, as I’m sure you’re all aware Dr. Reid’s IQ score places him in the extremely gifted rank Dr. Patterson’s IQ of 174 places her in the gifted ranks as well.”

“That’s Reid.”  Rossi muttered.

Mike from the IIU team spoke up, “So they’re both geniuses?”

“I would say that they’re both highly intelligent and their language ability and hyperfocus enhances that intelligence.”  Dr. Cargill replied.  “Now in most people with Asperger’s those traits come at a price, specifically a lack of social empathy.  By that I don’t mean that they don’t feel emotions, people with Asperger’s feel the same emotions that you or I do, and I don’t mean that they don’t care about others, they care deeply about their friends and loved ones just like anyone else.  But neurotypical people have the ability to tell how others are feeling.  You just know when someone around you is irritated or sad or very happy.  People with Asperger’s have a great deal of difficulty with this, and they have the same difficulty identifying and communicating their own emotional states.  Because of this they tend to say or do the wrong thing and then not understand why others are so bothered by their seeming obliviousness.”

“Yep, still Reid.”  Morgan agreed.

“Now one thing that always bothered researchers was how many Asperger’s cases we missed over the years.  We kept seeing kids with all of the expected traits when it came to learning but emotionally they seemed right as tops.  They were just fine, knew all the answers when it came to the social and emotional testing.  Finally in 2000 a research team at the University of Wisconsin led us in the direction of the answer.  They discovered something they started calling the Pollak Effect after the lead researcher.  They found that children who grew up in abusive situations had the ability to identify other’s emotional states 75% faster than children from healthy environments.  After some exploration they came to realize that as a defense mechanism these children had become experts at reading the microexpressions and body language of the people around them and could use that feedback to mirror the emotional state they wanted the other person to be in until that person reached that state.  They would say exactly what that person wanted to hear, arranged their body language in exactly the way that person needed to feel calm and unthreatened and so on.  In children with Asperger’s that increase in ability, a learned skill not a natural one, was enough to make up for the natural deficit causing them to appear to have all of the positive traits and not the negative ones.”

“Yeah, but Reid didn’t grow up in an abusive environment.”  Morgan protested.  “His mom’s nuts about him.”

“Diana Reid gave me this black eye.”  Katie replied.  “While I’ll agree that she does deeply love her son, a deteriorating paranoid schizophrenic can be just as violent as a mean drunk.  According to her doctor she has attacked her son a number of times over the years, and from what I could tell from the file it grew worse as he grew older.  When she becomes delusional she tends to mistake people for Garry Brendan Michaels and attack them for threatening her child.  And before you say that we don’t know for certain that she became violent with her son I’ll agree, but point out that identifying marks and scars have to be listed in the personnel files of field agents.  Reid has a number on his torso that point to abuse, including two hot water burns and what looks like a burn from a hot iron, both of which are indicative of child abuse.”

“Yeah, but Reid didn’t have to pretend or anything to us.”  Garcia insisted.  “We’re his friends.”

Dr. Cargill smiled patiently.  “Actually we believed both victims were in the process of healing and learning to open up and trust.  Once they both entered the university system they found the support and the space with which to do so.  But starting about four years ago they each went through a series of events that lead them to pick the old, protective behaviors again.  In Dr. Patterson’s case her friend Martha Walderman had a stroke and was rendered uncommunicative.  Martha Walderman was a retired special-ed teacher, one with experience working with Autistic and abused children, we believe that she was not only Dr. Patterson’s friend she was working with her therapeutically as well.  About a year after that Dr. Patterson’s stepmother, who suffers from Narcissistic Personality Disorder, began embezzling fund from her husband, and when the discrepancy was noticed she convinced her husband that she’d been using the money to help Laura after she was caught shoplifting.  We believe that the loss of her only intimate friend and the realization, that even after going no-contact her stepmother could still cause her problems, caused Laura Patterson to once again close up her shell.  She retreated back into the safety of her own mind and started reflecting the people around her, becoming the perfect student, co-worker, employee and even friend, all the while keeping them all at arm’s length, and while mimicking the social empathy she did not feel.”

Katie took the floor.  “Ok, this is where the BAU starts calling me a bitch.  For Dr. Reid we believe the downhill started with the Doyle case.  I won’t go into the details, they’re in the file, suffice it to say that the clean-up phase was a complete cockup.  And the resolution after the Maeve Donovan case only made it worse.  By the time those two cases were resolved we believe that Dr Reid had lost trust in his team, at least on the emotional level.  Again, he closed into his shell and started reflecting so well that not even a brace of the best profilers in the FBI knew that anything was wrong.  So when the Unsubs in this case came looking they found two people with the intelligence, language ability and hyperfocus of Asperger’s but apparently all of the social empathy needed to effectively function in society without a hint of anything wrong.  That’s what they wanted and that’s what they got.”

“But why?”  Morgan asked.

“We still don’t know.  Our best estimate is that either they wanted the intelligence and for them to be able to work together, in which case they’re being forced to work on a project for the Unsub or they wanted the genetic code in which case they might be test subjects themselves.  We just don’t have enough data to determine that at this time.”  She looked around the room.  “Any questions?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any questions?


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21  
Week 07**

“I want you all to know.”  Strauss said.  “There will be a change in the standard procedure for dealing with inter-unit trauma that will be applied throughout the Bureau as a result of this report.  The details will be announced when they’re finalized.  Thank you all for your help.”

As the meeting broke up Rossi sidled over to Strauss.  “A change in procedure?”  He asked.

“No more cowboy nonsense.”  She replied, clearly angry at what she had heard.  “From now on when a team member or a family member is lost due to criminal action the entire unit will get counseling from a licensed professional, period.  No exceptions.”

Rossi nodded.  “I’m not certain that would have helped in this case.”

“And I am certain that having someone trustworthy to talk to would have helped mitigate the effects.”  She replied.  “This is coming from the Director himself so don’t bother to argue David.”

“All right.”  Rossi gave up on that and headed back over to the group.

“This is my fault.”  Garcia was saying as she wiped at her eyes.  “I work with people who have lost a loved one to violence, I should have known better than to get Morgan to push Reid into interacting before he was ready.  But all I saw was my friend in pain and I just wanted to _fix it_ , you know, just make it better right now.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t start it.”  JJ said.  Even her eyes were wet.  “We should have been honest with the team after what happened to Emily.  We should have trusted all of you.”

“The Japanese say ‘fix the problem, not the blame’.”  Rossi pointed out.  “We could all sit here and point the finger at each other and at ourselves and it’s not going to do a bit of good.”

“We need to apologize.”  Morgan agreed.

“Oh we need to do more than apologize.”  As one of the few who had never broken trust maybe Blake had earned that hint of maternal chastisement in her voice.  “As someone once told me ‘apologies are easy, making amends takes work’.”

“But how do we do that?”  Hotch asked.

“I think we start by letting go of our collective pride.”  Rossi said, “We don’t know everything about every mind.”  He turned to the woman packing up.  “Excuse me, Dr. Cargill?”

“Yes?”

“My name is Dave Rossi.  We’re Dr. Reid’s co-workers but more than that, we’re his friends.  We’ve screwed up big time, we know that now.  He’s going to need our help when he gets back and we need some help in figuring out how to do that, and how to make things right again.  Would you be willing to sit down and help us with that?”

She looked them over and nodded.  “I’ll do what I can.”

* * *

**  
Week 08**

A few days later Garcia’s phone rang.  Within moments they were all gathered around the conference room. “Hello Lizzy.”  Hotch said.  “We’re glad you called.  Is everything all right?”

“I don’t know.  Mr. Kipling came.  He and Uncle John had to go to the airport for something.  Spencer told me to call because they were out.  He said to call and stay on the line as long as I can.”

“How is he, and how is Laura?”

“They’re okay.  Laura’s had a stomach ache for a while, but I don’t think she’s that sick, she’s still eating.”

“I’m sorry she’s been sick.  Did Spencer give you a message for us?”

“Yeah, he said you need to find us, as soon as you can.  He said we have to be home, the sooner the better, but we have absolutely _have_ to be home by Christmas.”

“By Christmas?”  Rossi asked.

“Yeah, that’s what he said.”

 “Did he say why?” 

“No.  Laura said not to tell.”

Now that was weird.  “Okay honey I want you to do something for me.”  Morgan said.  “Are you sitting down?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I want you to get comfortable and just relax for me.  Take a few deep breaths and try to focus on what I’m saying.”  They heard her shifting around a little.  “Now, what were you doing right before Uncle John and Mr. Kipling left?”

“I was washing dishes.”

“Okay, now tell me what you did right after?  Did you go downstairs right away or did you finish the dishes first?” 

“I finished the dishes and hung up the towel, and then I went to the cellar.”

“How do you get down there?  What is the door like?”

“You have to go to the sun porch and move the rug out of the way and lift up the door.  Then you go into the root cellar.”

“What does it smell like in there?”

“Like apples.  It’s kinda dark; the windows are small and dirty.  All the way at the end is the dark door, with the stairs down to the real cellar.”

“What are the stairs like?”

“Dark, and creepy, and there are a lot of them.”

“What does it smell like down there?”

“Like wood at first, but then you can smell coffee.  It gets stronger as you go down.”

“Okay, follow that smell of coffee down.  Once you get down there tell me what you see.”

“There’s a door.  I knock on it, and wait to hear them say I can come in,”

“Once you go in where are Laura and Spencer?”

“They’re lying on the bed.  They’re kind of laughing and talking, but they’re being real quiet.”

“What happens when they see you?”

“Spencer gets out of bed and comes over to sit right up by the bars with me.”

“Okay, what’s he wearing?”

“A white t-shirt, blue pants and white socks.  He drew on one with a marker; he said it’s bad luck if your socks match,”

“Is he holding anything?”

“His coffee.”

“Okay, what happened next?”

“I tell him that Uncle John and Mr. Kipling went to the airport.  He looks back at Laura then he tells me to call Garcia and stay on the phone as long as I can.  Then he says ‘you need to tell them’ and Laura says “Spencer, you can’t tell her, she’s a child.’ and then he says ‘you need to tell them that we need to be home as soon as we can get there.  The sooner the better.  But no later than Christmas, understand?  You have to make them understand that we have to be home no later than Christmas.  Can you do that?’ and I say I can.  Then Laura says ‘I almost wish we didn’t have to go back’ and Spencer says ‘I know, but we have to, you know that.’ and then he says to me ‘Go call them.  And stay on the line as long as you can.  Remember, we have to be home by Christmas, Uncle John won’t need my help after that’ and I say okay and go back upstairs and call you.”

 “And they’re not hurt at all?”  Hotch asked.

“Nope.”

“Has anyone else gone down there?”

“Uncle John went down there once, just for a few minutes but that’s it.”

“You said they have a bed down there sweetie?” Garcia asked.  “Do they have any other furniture?”

“Oh yeah, they have chairs and a table and a TV for videos and a thing you run on and a coffee pot and all kind of stuff.  We have to keep sending books down in the dumbwaiter, it’s a good thing Uncle John has a lot; they read fast.  He does too.”

“Dumbwaiter?”  Blake asked.  “Is that how they get food down there?”

“Yeah. I do all the cooking; Laura’s been sending notes to help me get better.  Usually we send notes, I’m not allowed down there.  Oh!  I hear cars! Bye!”  And the line went dead.

They all stood there, staring at the table for a moment.  “Christmas.”  Rossi said.  “That’s a deadline.”

“Yeah, but what happens then?”  JJ asked.

“Don’t know.”  Morgan replied.  “But knowing Reid, saying that the Unsub won’t need him after that…”  They all digested that for a long, quiet moment.  Finally Morgan spoke up again.  “’You can’t tell her.  She’s just a kid’.  Laura didn’t want to tell _Lizzy_.  Maybe she didn’t want to scare her.”

“Something’s been bothering me.”  JJ said.  “Why doesn’t he just have her call 911?  Or the operator?”

“Not available on Voice-Over-IP service.”  Garcia told them.  “She would have just gotten a recording telling her that.  At least it sounds like they’re all right.  The Unsub is looking after them, if nothing else.”

“That’s always a plus.”  Blake agreed.  “But there’s something more.  How long do you think it would take a girl of that age to finish breakfast dishes for five people?”

JJ shrugged.  “Thirty minutes, tops.”

“And how long to have that conversation, navigate her way up and downstairs, and call us?”

“Maybe forty minutes.”  Hotch said.  Garcia put a map of the target area up on the screen.

“Figure twenty to load up at the airport.”  Rossi said.  “That leaves twenty out, twenty back.”

“Say thirty for a safe zone.  Garcia, can you put up a thirty minute travel circle around every airport in Pennsylvania.”  She did.  “Now exclude all the circles that cover urban growth boundaries, or that are strictly commercial.”  They were left with forty circles.  “That’s still too many.”

“But it’s an improvement.”  Hotch said, “We’re getting there.”

“Yeah.”  Rossi said.  “But can we get there fast enough?”

* * *

 

That was May


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22  
Week 10**

June brought nothing good and more bad than they wanted.

Nothing happened for the first two weeks of the month.  They got the profile, the pictures and sketches they had out to the police departments and airports in their target area but they didn’t have much hope.  These Unsubs were extremely good at security, it would take a major slip for them to be caught.  And without more input they couldn’t really add more to the profile.

Two weeks in brought the first blow.  Rossi brought it in to morning meeting with a sigh.  “I just received work from Sterling House in Ithaca.”  He said.  “Martha Walderman had another stroke last night.  The funeral is on Tuesday.”

They let out a collective sigh at that one.  “Ouch.”  JJ muttered, “Poor Laura.”

“According to Dr. Cargill one of the hardest things for people with Asperger’s to deal with when it comes to death is the sudden change.”  Rossi said.  “Martha Walderman has been deteriorating for a while now, hopefully that will mitigate the effects somewhat.  It still won’t be easy though.  I just wish we could have gotten them back so Martha would have known before she passed on.”

“I just wish we could get them back.”  Garcia replied.

* * *

 

**Week 11**

A few days later Rossi got a phone call, “Agent Rossi?”  A polite male voice asked.  “I’m Daniel Walderman.  The home said that you were looking into the disappearance of my mother’s friend Laura.”

“That’s right.”

“My mother left her a few things in her will.  I tried contacting Laura’s family but her mother was rather…”

“I believe her stepmother isn’t well.”  Rossi said diplomatically.

“Ah.  And her housemates said to contact you with any questions.  I’m not entirely certain where to send this stuff…”

“Odds are we’ll be the next people to see Laura.  If you send it here I’ll make certain it gets to her.”

“Great.  Thank you so much.”

When the packages arrived Rossi didn’t open them.  He just placed them in his guestroom, talismans for a safe return.

* * *

 

The next blow came late Friday night.  On Saturday morning the entire BAU team was standing outside Spencer’s apartment building, surveying the mess.  JJ, having tapped her liaison skills, left the knot of men gathered outside and came up to them.  “The building management is taking full responsibility.  And they’re insured.”  She said, “They said the fire didn’t spread to his floor.  But they had to use a lot of water to put it out.”

“Can we go look?”  Morgan asked.

“Yeah.”

Once inside the full impact was clear.  Spencer’s apartment was soaked.  The plaster was already ballooning off the ceiling, the books were swelling on the shelves, and chemicals and water soaked his furniture and clothing.  “At least this is okay.”  Garcia said, looking at the box of letters from Maeve.  The box had protected all of the letters and the book tucked into the back, whatever it meant. 

“Yeah, but everything else is a loss.”  Morgan looked around.  “It’s going to take months for them to even start to repair this.  What are we going to do?”

“He can stay at my place until he gets settled.”  Rossi replied.  “I have room.  Aaron, don’t you have his power of attorney still?”

Hotch nodded.  “I’m sure he had insurance.  At least that will give him a nest egg to start over.”

“I’m going to get the sizes off his clothes and a list of toiletries.”  Blake said.  “We can at least get a suitcase together for when he gets back.”

They left the picture and his cookbook collection behind.  There was nothing they could do.

* * *

 

Lizzy didn’t call in June.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23  
Week 17**

By the start of July despair had settled over the entire unit.  This was the longest they had gone without contact and without more contact they simply did not have enough to get anywhere.  Reid had been gone seventeen weeks, what felt like a small lifetime.  “What do you think he’s doing right now?”  Garcia asked Morgan one morning.

“I don’t know.”  Morgan replied.  “Lizzy said they had coffee and books, I bet he’s all curled up and happy right now.”

“Or else he’s trapped in some horrifying experiment, having his brain zapped or something.”  She replied with a despairing sigh.  “What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to jump on the next scrap of information we find and we’re going to use it to get him home.”  Morgan said.  “And when he gets home we’re going to do with Dr. Cargill told us to do, we’re going to be honest and explain things clearly and simply until his brain hooks back up with society.  He’s going to go stay at Rossi’s, and Rossi is going to keep everything quiet and on schedule until Reid is settled enough to start talking.  And then we’ll take it from there.  Simple as that.”

“I know, I know.  It just seems too simple, you know?”

“You work with victims, baby girl, you know this.”

“I know, you can’t fix people, you have to let them heal at their own speed, but he’s Reid and he’s my friend and I can’t help wanting to.”

“I know, but you have a job.  You’re our chief resource finder and errand runner; because you are the best at finding stuff.”

“Then why can’t I find him?”

All Morgan could do was hold her.

* * *

 

A few days later Katie came back to the BAU.  “You all have to see this.”

They assembled in the conference room where Garcia booted the video onto the large monitor.  “What is it?”  JJ asked.

“Child porn.  And it’s as bad as you would expect.”  When Garcia started it up they saw that it was; little girls, prepubescent.  “Garcia, can you focus on the background.  Upper left of the screen, right…now.”

The corner came into focus and their jaws dropped, “White barn, red roof, black glass solar panel.”  Rossi nodded.  “You think that’s the place?”

“It gets better.  Garcia, move ahead to nine minutes, thirty seconds.” 

By then the girls were in the barn.  They steeled themselves against the horror and again focused on the background.  “Yellow house, sun porch, and another solar panel,” Hotch murmured.  “It fits the description.  What is that on the ground behind the house?”

“That is what clinched it.  Garcia, thirteen minutes, fifty seconds.”  In that shot they had a clear look at the back of the house.  It was a concrete pad with three glass domes and some kind of ventilation system.  “Those are solar tubes.  They’re a kind of sky light.  They can carry light down up to thirty feet.  There’s a living space under there.”

“That where they’re keeping them.”  Hotch replied.

They all sat quietly as they digested this.  Then Rossi spoke up.  “Does this video take us down there at all?”

“No.”  Katie replied.  “In fact, Garcia, the twenty minute mark please.”  At that point they spotted a tall, rangy figure moving across the yard and into the house.  “I don’t think Unsub One is involved with the abuse at all.  But at twenty-two minutes we get a good look at someone who might be Unsub Two.” 

They moved ahead and finally got a look at him.  Not much of one since he was wearing a lucha libre mask that covered his head and eyes, but the grey moustache and beard and the large belly fit the description.  “The Rights of Men must be your only concern!”  He was pronouncing to his cowering victims.

“But we never see his face.”  Rossi sighed, “Slick.”

“So they’re just using the farm as a movie set.”  Morgan pointed out.  “I wonder if that’s how they’re making their money.”

“Probably not, this thing was a giveaway.”  Katie sighed.  “If one of the victims is Lizzy Martin that would explain why she didn’t call, they would have stuck around the house to film.”

“Poor little tyke.”  Garcia murmured.

“Does any of this get us any closer?”  Rossi asked.

“We can run the footage past the NSA, see if they can get anything for a satellite check.”  Hotch replied.  “And I’ll watch the entire video to see if Unsub Two says or does anything to help with the profile.”

“Sure you want to do that?”  Katie asked.  “It’s rough stuff, especially for a parent.”

Hotch sighed.  “Atonement has to start somewhere.”

* * *

 

The NSA couldn’t find anything.

Lizzy didn’t call in July either.

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24  
Week 20**

By now they were all thoroughly disheartened.  Very few people had ever been a victim of a kidnapping for that long and survived.  But this was Spencer they were talking about.  Unlike, say, Morgan, whose strength was quick and powerful and overwhelming, Spencer’s strength was slow and calm and built to endure.  If anyone could make it this long, they kept telling each other, it’s Reid.

August brought heat and sun and new problems.  “I just got a call from the district attorney in Palo Alto, California.”  Hotch told Rossi one afternoon.

“Oh?”

“Apparently Laura Patterson’s parents are moving to have her declared legally dead.”

“You mean her stepmother is after her money.  I thought it took seven years for someone to be declared dead?”

“It does.  She’s not letting that stop her.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“The judge has asked me to appear, so I’m flying out in the morning.”

“Good.”

* * *

 

Based on Hotch’s testimony the judge refused to declare Laura dead.  He then ordered all her accounts sealed and placed under a conservatorship.  The money she’d received from her mother’s family and her life insurance would be waiting for her return.  But Laura’s stepmother did not stop there.  Two weeks later Morgan got a call, “Hey Tonya.”

“Hey.  How close are you to finding Laura?”

“Not as close as we’d like to be.  It’s going to be the end of the month at best.  Honestly, it could be the end of the year.  Why?”

“Her Mom and Dad are here.  They intend to move her out today.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

“…into a dumpster.  They’re just going to toss all of her stuff.  Technically now that she has her degree she’s supposed to move out, but I don’t know…”

“Morgan sighed.  “I don’t know how to stop them either.”

“I’ll see what security can do.  I’m willing to pony up for a storage unit, I’ve already got her research put away, but her clothes and her books…”

“I know.”

Rossi, on the other hand, decided to take a more direct route.  He immediately started calling, looking for a flight.  “Can we call her room a crime scene?  Is any of that evidence?”

“No.”  Blake sighed.  “And we sent her hope chest back once we had the profile, it was no longer needed.  Why are they doing this?”

“Laura’s stepmother is taking her frustration at not controlling all of the money out on her scapegoat.  She’s trying to erase the reminder of her failure.  Damn.”  He shook his head.  “I’m not going to get there in time.  But…maybe we can add to that failure just a little.”

* * *

 

Later that day, in Ithaca, New York, an expensively dressed woman strode in to the local yarn and fabric shop.  She imperiously asked for the owner.  “May I help you?”  Hickory Chu asked.

“I’m Karen Patterson.  I believe my stepdaughter, Laura, used to work here?”

“Yes, she did.  It’s a shame, what happened.  We miss her around here, she was a great teacher.”

“Yes.  Unfortunately she won’t be returning to school, we’re here to collect her things.  I heard she left some quilt-thing here?”

“She did, but it sold recently.  I have her share of the payment though.”

“Oh.”  Karen brightened considerably.  “Well we’ll just put that in her account then.  How much did it sell for?”

“Ten dollars,” Hickory handed Karen a five out of the register along with a cold smile of victory.

* * *

 

Three days later Dave Rossi poured himself a glass of good red wine, climbed the stairs and looked over the small pile that had been moved to a corner of his guestroom.  There were two suitcases, one containing toiletries and simple clothing for a tall, slender man, the other now containing clothing and toiletries for a petite woman, collected on the advice of her former housemates.  There was a well-made leather satchel holding quality writing paper and a carefully crafted quilt.  There was a box containing letters and a book and a parcel wrapped in brown paper.  On the dresser were the keys to an old Volvo and a thumb drive holding years of research into how to manage a home.  A small stack of envelopes held statements of insurance funds and salary deposits and invested inheritance that would give them each a stake to restart their lives.  There was a degree in a leather folder given based on excellent work already done and back at the BAU a badge and a weapon waited in Hotch’s desk drawer to be returned to a man who deserved them.  There in a corner of his guestroom were two lives, just waiting for their rightful owners to step back into them and go on living.

Dave didn’t know why some instinct was telling him to keep it all together like this.  Or why it was telling him to spread that quilt over this bed.  “Caroline,” he said down into the ruby liquid swirling in his glass.  “If this is you whispering then I need a bigger sign.  The way this case is going the dammed thing would just get dusty.”  But the urging didn’t let up, it just grew stronger, and over the years Dave had learned to trust his instincts.  “Fine,” he said at last, putting down his wine.  “I’ll put a sheet over it.”

* * *

 

Katie found two more videos, plus a few from past years, before the underground room had been installed.  As a result of that they knew that Unsub Two spent his summer week-ends on the farm sticking close to the property,

So no one was surprised when Lizzy didn’t call in August.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any more questions for Lizzy now is the time.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25  
Week 25**

September came, the leaves started to turn; Henry and Jack went back to school.  Everyone felt the pressure of the coming cold weather, of the coming holidays, of the coming deadline.  Even with the detailed analysis of the videos Katie had found they simply did not have enough, not yet.  But then they caught the break that they had been hoping for.  At Garcia’s signal they all gathered in the conference room.  “Hello Lizzy.”  Hotch said.

“Hello,” replied the familiar, young voice.

“I understand that you had a difficult summer.  We’re all sorry that happened.  We’re doing everything we can to try to get you home.”

“I know.  Spencer said I could go live with my Grandma and Grandpa.”

“I’ve spoken with them.  They miss you very much and they want you home.  They have your room waiting for you.”

They heard a smile come back into her voice, “And Mr. Bunny?”

“I’m sure Mr. Bunny is waiting for you too.  How are Spencer and Laura?”

“They’re okay.  Laura’s been real tired lately.”

“Did any of the people who came around over the summer go down to talk to them?”

“No.  Uncle John didn’t let them in the house.  But I got the numbers off their cars, Spencer said it would help.”

A collective sigh of excitement and relief went through the group.  “Oh yes it will help sweetie.”  Garcia said, “Just start reading them off to me.”  Within moments they had a list of six license plates, three from Pennsylvania, one from New York.  “Oh good work honey!  This is great!”

“Thanks.  I sent the notes down to Spencer and Laura…”

Suddenly behind her they heard a male voice.  “What the hell are you doing!?”  It growled.  There was a high, shocked sound, the clatter of the handset falling, and indistinct male voices.  Then someone picked up the phone again.  “Who is this?”  Said the rough, male voice.

“This is SSA Aaron Hotchner from the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”  Hotch replied.  “Who is this?”

The voice growled and the line went dead.

They all sighed and sank in frustration and concern.  “Something tells me that’s not going to happen again.”  Rossi said.

Garcia shook herself and sat down to access her computer.  “The sooner I run these the sooner we can get to them.”  She said.  One after the other she started looking up the plates.  “Stolen,” she said for the first one.  “Stolen.  Stolen.  Stolen…”   The frustration in the room was palpable.  Then she stopped.  “Not stolen.  It’s a motorcycle.  Belongs to a Chaz Darnell…”  She brought the picture up on the screen.  “He’s a software designer, 34, divorced, lives in New York City.”

“Call the New York field office.”  Hotch replied.  “He drove there, that means he can tell us how to get there.”

* * *

 

But Chaz Darnell was not currently in New York.  According to his co-workers he was on a business trip to Asia.  They flagged his passport, the moment he set foot back in the US he’d be picked up and brought to the BAU.

The next day Garcia gathered everyone back into the conference room.  “This was sent to me twenty minutes ago.”  She said.  “Before you ask I couldn’t trace it, but I’ve passed it up to the NSA to see what they could do with it.”

* * *

 

_The video opened with the cameraman following another man down a set of dark, spiral stairs.  At the bottom the man in front pushed someone ahead of them.  “Git in there!”  A now familiar voice growled.  The door at the bottom opened to reveal an open space surrounded by bars.   Past them they got a glimpse of soft colors and furniture.  But the camera focused on the figure in front.   It was a little girl no older than eight, with braided blond pigtails and a pink t-shirt._

_The man who had been in front was only seen from mid-torso down, but it was easy to see that he was removing his belt.  “No, no, no, please!”  The little girl whimpered.  “I’m sorry!”_

_The first blow caught her across the shoulder, knocking her to the floor.  Blow after blow rained down upon her body as she curled up in a ball to try to protect what she could.  “I!  Told!  You!  To!  Never!  Touch!  My!  Computer!”  The man yelled as he brought the belt down again and again and the girl wailed out her pain and terror._

_But there was another voice, as loud as the Unsubs, competing and trying to yell over him.  A very familiar voice.  “Stop it!  Just stop it!  It was my idea!  I told her to!  You want to hit someone, hit me!  Come on in here and hit me!  Hit me!”  Spencer Reid yelled back at the Unsub._

_After what seemed like forever the Unsub stopped.  “There.”  He said.  “That ought to learn you.”_

_Now Spencer came into view.  His hair was too shaggy and he looked paler than he should, but he was healthy and his eyes were bright with adrenalin and anger.  He squatted down on the other side of the bars, as close as he could get to where Lizzy was curled into a tight ball, rocking and crying.  “Lizzy, I am so sorry.  They’re coming, all right.  They’re coming.  I promise you they’re coming.  They’ll never give up, I know they won’t.  I know they won’t stop.  They’re coming and they’re going to get us home.  I swear they’re going to get us home.”_

_“Shut up, pig.”  The Unsub spat at him.  “Git up, girl, and go make me a sandwich.”  He gave Lizzy a kick in the backside that had her scrabbling to her feet and back toward the stairs._

_Spencer got to his feet and stared down the Unsub.  “Why are you…?”  He started, but the camera cut off before he got any further._

* * *

 

“He’s alive.”  JJ breathed.  “He looks all right.”

“More than that, he’s still fighting.”  Hotch agreed.  “Whatever is happening the Unsub hasn’t broken him.”  They all knew that this was good news; that it boded well for healing.  “Garcia, I want a frame by frame breakdown, I want to get as much as we can out of this, see what it will tell us about location and their condition.”

“We never saw their faces.”  Morgan pointed out.  “Can we do voice analysis?”

“Not without an exemplar to match it to.”  Garcia said.  “But I’ll see what I can do.”

It was something.  Spencer was alive.  They had hope.

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26  
Week 27**

By the next day Garcia had a frame by frame breakdown of every bit of the video, specifically the parts where they could see Spencer.  “I even put together a computer model of the room they’re in, or the best estimate I could based on what I could see.”

The computer model showed a large room, with three walls of bars turning it into a U shape.  The spaces between the walls and the bars on two of the sides were nicely finished, complete with carpet and paint, while the center was bare concrete.  The third side was blank as it had not appeared in the video.  The end of the U was divided in two; one side included a sofa, comfortable chair, reading light, TV, bookshelves.  The other side held a bed.  The side of the U that was seen was also divided up, one section included a treadmill, and the other held a small bathroom.  “I don’t think this guy is a sadist.”  Rossi said.  “He doesn’t want them to suffer.”

“On the contrary, they not only have the basics, they have some creature comforts as well.”  Blake considered this.  “Maybe he’s trying to win their cooperation?”

“Or keep them healthy.”  JJ pointed out with a sigh.  “They have ventilation, sunlight, a place to exercise, and he’s feeding them the same diet he’s eating at least.”

“There’s something else.”  Hotch noted.  “Look at the directions of the dividers and the furniture.  Every room is open to the center, and all of the furniture is angled perpendicular to the bars.  If someone was standing in the center the people trapped behind the bars would have nowhere to hide.”

“So he wants to watch them…live?”  JJ asked.

“No, Lizzy mentioned cameras at one point.  He could watch them even in a closed room.”  Morgan replied.  “That’s a clear field of fire.”

“But why?”  Rossi asked.  “Does he want them to live a certain way?  Nothing in this setup indicates anything different from current societal norms.  A threat implies do X or else, but there’s no indication of an X here, at all.”

“Maybe some kind of psychological testing,” Blake said.  “Maybe variables could be changed.”

“Well that’s a pleasant thought.”  Morgan replied.  He moved on to the frame by frame shots.  The very first showed Reid sitting in the comfortable chair directly across from the door as it opened.  He was wearing some kind of pants or jeans, a white undershirt and an open light denim shirt overtop.  He had his feet up on the ottoman, a book in his lap and a cup of coffee on a small table at his elbow.  “Nope, that is not suffering.  I think that’s our other victim, right on the edge.”  Laura Patterson was sitting at some kind of desk or table, one of two behind the sofa.  As they went frame by frame she turned to see what was going on, then looked at Spencer, who waved her back as he rose and stepped to the bars.  “He’s indicating that she should stay back, behind him.  He’s protecting her.”  Morgan nodded approvingly.

His movements showed Spencer to be unharmed.  “I ran a computer algorithm on this, one used to confirm identity, and it showed that he’s about the same size as when he left.”  Garcia told them.  As they moved forward they saw Laura, clad in a long, loose dress, get up and stand behind Spencer as bidden.  “Based on the pictures Tonya had of her it looks like Laura’s bodyweight has increased by maybe 15%, but with that dress it’s hard to tell.”

“They both look as healthy as when they left though.”  Blake said.

“Yeah, but he’s tighter.”  Morgan replied, “Looks like he’s carrying less body fat.  He might actually be healthier.”

They watched it carefully, frame by frame.  “Look at his body language.”  Rossi said at last.  “He’s curious, concerned, and outright pissed, but not once do you see submission.  He wasn’t just putting on a show, he hasn’t given up.”

“And neither have we.”  Hotch replied.

* * *

 

**Week 29**

Ten days later Chaz Darnell finally landed on US soil in California.  Five hours after that he was sitting in an interrogation room facing Rossi and Hotch.  “What the hell is going on?”  He asked.  In reply Hotch started the first video Katie had found.  Almost immediately Darnell got the guarded, wary expression of a man who feels the noose around his neck.  “I don’t know anything about that.”

“You were there.”  Rossi replied.  “We know.”

“I want a deal.”

“There is no deal.  And there is only one chance of earning any amount of good will.”

“We believe a Federal Agent is being held on that property.”  Hotch told him.

Darnell’s jaw dropped.  “You mean Farmer John has a real pig down in his pigpen?  I knew that bastard had a brass set but Jesus….”

“What’s he doing with them down there?”  Rossi asked.

“Not a clue.  The way he was looking at us I didn’t ask.”

Hotch passed over a secure tablet with a map program up.  “Show us how to get to the farm.”  He said.

Darnell looked at them both, considered, and shook his head.  “And fuck over Kip?  Not a chance.  Go ahead and throw the book at me.”

“Do you have any idea what they do to child molesters in prison?”  Rossi asked him.

“Not a third of what Kip would do to me.  Now my apologies but I want my lawyer.”

* * *

 

Darnell simply refused to talk.  He confessed to rape and molestation and participating in the manufacturing of child porn and anything else they threw at him but he would not give up “Kip” or “Farmer John”.  They thought they had reached another dead end until the next morning when they found Garcia already there.  “I found them.”  She said.  “I found the Unsubs.”

 


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27  
Week 29**

“So the way Darnell was saying ‘Kip” made it sound like a first name to me, not a last, so I went looking for any first or last of Kip of Kipling connected to him or the company he works for or anywhere else in his online circle, which, let me tell you, is extensive.”  Garcia told them as they sat down.  “I found out that Darnell is a Men’s Rights supporter and is active in several online forums.”

“Men’s rights?”  JJ asked.

“Yeah.  The Men’s Rights movement started out addressing discrimination against men in areas such as reproductive rights, divorce settlements, domestic violence laws, and sexual harassment laws.”

“And has since become a hot bed for malignant misogynists,” Hotch replied.

Rossi spoke up.  “Let me guess, never Google in the middle of a divorce.”

“Well one of the people he exchanged with on the forums and ended up e-mailing quite a bit was, lo and behold, a Mr. Kipling.   I traced that back and found him.”  Garcia put a picture up on the screen.  Grey beard and moustache, balding, portly.  “Meet Kipling Harris, 42, Co-Founder and CEO of GlobalSafe Technology, divorced, father of 3.”

“CEO,” Blake nodded.  “There’s the money and free time to pull this off.  And the connections he’d need to get into the University club.”

“GlobalSafe Technology designs weapons systems.”  Rossi added.  “Maybe they are looking for brains.  Any clue to Farmer John?”

“I’m glad you asked.”  Garcia replied.  She put another picture up, tall, rangy, a face all sharp planes and angles.  “Meet the Woz to Harris’ Jobs, John Rudger, certified genius.  Also 42, never married, Co-Founder and head of research for GlobalSafe, or he was until he went off the grid eight years ago.  Now watch this.”  She’d taken a picture of Rudger and added a full beard and moustache, then compared it to the picture Eric had given them.  A perfect match.

“Farmer John,” Morgan muttered.  “Any idea why he went off the grid?”

“Nope.  But it gets better.  According to Harris’ custody agreement he gets his three boys three week-ends a month.  The fourth week-end of the month they go to their grandparents.  I did a thing and on that week-end a GlobalSafe shell company charters a flight that leaves DC on Friday morning for DuBois Regional Airport in Pennsylvania and returns on Sunday.”  She switched to the map of the target area and turned off all of the circles around airports but one.

“So we bring Harris in?”  JJ asked.

“Not so fast.”  Rossi replied.  “We still don’t know where Rudger is hiding.  That’s a big circle.  If we bring Harris in now one call could have Rudger destroying the evidence.”

“Putting a tail on is risky.”  Morgan countered.  “He only goes out there once a month and that deadline is ticking.  It’s already October.”

“No, I’ve got a better idea.”  Rossi said.  “I just hope the NSA wants Reid back as badly as we do.”

* * *

 

An hour later they flew out to DuBois Regional Airport.  While the rest of the team split up, contacting the local sheriff, asking around the locals to see if anyone knew John Rudger, Rossi and Morgan started questioning airport security.  It wasn’t long before they were looking at a well-used truck parked in long-term parking.  “What have you got for me baby girl?”  Morgan asked over the phone.

“That truck is registered to a shell corporation.”  Garcia replied.  “It tracks back to GlobalSafe Technology.”

“Bingo.”  While Rossi held the phone Morgan made quick work of breaking in to the car.  Once in he popped the hood and then set about wiring the tracking unit under the hood.  “There we go.”

“Okay, hold on, they’re still moving the satellite.”  Garcia replied.  They closed up and waited.  About ten minutes later she called back.  “Okay, we are hot.  That truck is pinging nicely.  And they said the satellite is ours for the duration.”

“Outstanding.  Thank you my goddess.”  Morgan hung up the phone.  “Now all we have to do is wait for Harris to drive out to his friend’s farm."

  "A whole satellite to ourselves,"  Rossi mused.  "I wonder what Reid does for them anyway.” 

“I don’t think I want to know.”  Morgan chuckled as they walked away.

* * *

 

**Week 32**

“Okay, this is not fair.”  JJ moaned.

It was the last week of October.  Harris’ sons were confirmed to be with their grandparents.  But on Thursday night the first major snowstorm moved in, shutting down every airport on the Eastern Seaboard.  No one was going anywhere.

“We’ll have one more chance in November.”  Hotch said.  “If we don’t catch them then we’ll bring Harris in and try it that way.”

 

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28  
Week 34**

But before the last week-end in November there was one more hurdle to get through.  “Why didn’t Spencer come?”  Henry asked his godmother at the end of a very long birthday.

“Oh, he’d be here if he could, sweetie.”  Garcia replied, hugging him tight.  “And he’ll make up for it and for Halloween too, I promise.”

In the kitchen JJ sighed.  “Is this penance?”  She asked Will.  “Am I going to have to explain to Henry that the monsters took his godfather away because Mom told a lie?”

“I hope not.”  Was all Will could say.

* * *

 

**Week 37**

The week-end after Thanksgiving dawned bright and cold.  As soon as the GlobalSafe shell corporation had booked the private jet from DC to DuBois Garcia’s screens lit up.  By the time Kipling Harris boarded his plane they were already waiting for him.

Because they had enough evidence to show that child pornography had been produced on the farm the IIU team was still involved in the case.  The plan was that once they found the farm the BAU team would take over Spencer and Laura’s side while Katie and her people would look after Lizzy and start building her end of the case.  The plus side of this was that they had a team that had no relation to Reid whatsoever, which made them perfect for tailing Harris.  “Where are you?”  Hotch asked from the command post at the airport.

“At a big box shopping center,” Katie replied.  “It looks like Harris is getting their supplies.”

They waited.  They waited while the IIU team followed Harris around and reported on his every move and purchase.  They waited through the feed and tack store, through the garden center, through a used books store.  They waited through an auto parts store and through a camping and sporting goods store and through Radio Shack.  They waited through Wal-Mart and Target and Starbucks.  They waited until they were about to start ripping out their hair from the frustration.

Finally, his truck completely loaded, Harris tied a tarp over everything and left the shopping center.  “He’s on the move.”  Garcia reported.  “It looks like he’s heading west on I80.”

“That’s going to take him back past the airport.”  Hotch said.

“Shall we join them?”  Rossi asked.

Within moments Kipling Harris was trailing a brace of FBI agents, all carefully avoiding being noticed. Thankfully it was a fairly busy highway.  They followed him west, around the town of Brookville, until he took the exit onto Highway 36.  “Okay, Katie, your car and mine will follow from here.”  Hotch said into his phone.  “Everyone else hang back at this truck stop, give us a chance to get ahead.”

They continued north, passing through the impossibly small town of Sigel, and then continuing past small farms and settlements.  Eventually he crossed a river.  They hung back even further.  “Okay, he’s over the river and turning….right, he’s heading east along the river on State Route 2006.”  They followed the river’s gentle curves, through pleasantly forested lands all glorious with fall until Garcia spoke up again.  “Okay, he just turned left onto Dark Hollow Road.  He turned away from the river on Dark Hollow Road.”

“There is nothing out here.”  Morgan said.  He, Rossi and Hotch were sharing this car, JJ and Blake we a distance back with the IIU team.  “We need to let him get further ahead.”

They did, but only for a few minutes.  “Okay, he just turned again, this time right onto Blood Road.”  Garcia told them.  “Blood Road is a dead end.”

“We’ve got him.”  Hotch said.  “Let’s go.”

They hurried now, as quickly as they could.  “Okay there are three farms on Blood Road.”  Garcia told them.  “It looks like he’s heading for the two at the very end.”

They were hidden by the foliage until the very end, when they spotted a truck laden with supplies parked in front of a yellow house on the right.  Beyond it they spotted a white barn with a red roof and solar panels.  “That’s it.”  Rossi said.

They pulled up and got out just as Harris made it up the steps.  “Kipling Harris!”  Hotch called, “Freeze!  FBI!”

But Harris didn’t freeze.  His eyes widened and he bolted in the door.  “Damn it!”  Morgan growled.

Then they heard the racking of a shotgun.

Then someone else called “FBI!”  This time from inside the house.

Then they heard the boom of the shotgun being fired.

They ran up the stairs and Morgan kicked open the door.  “FBI!”  He called out, pointing his weapon at the tall man holding a shotgun in the doorway across from him.

And he stared into the cold, dead eyes of his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part 1


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 - Hope
> 
> Endure and persist; this pain will turn to good by and by.
> 
> \- Ovid

 

**Chapter 29**

“Reid!”  Morgan said sharply.

Spencer blinking at him for a moment as the sight seemed to burn through whatever fog was holding his brain in place.  Then he lowered the shotgun, leaned it against the wall, and walked into the room behind him.  “They’re here.”  He said as he went around the corner.

Morgan followed him.  In the worn kitchen he found Laura Patterson, and a young girl with flaxen pigtails that had to be Lizzy.  Laura had been sawing something off Lizzy’s neck with what looked to be an old steak knife, but now she was looking up at Spencer with a mixture of shock and relief and deep anger.  Without a word she went back to sawing.

“Let me help.”  Spencer said, too calmly.

“Not with your thumb.”  Laura replied, just as calmly.

Without a word Morgan stepped closer and picked up Spencer’s hands.  His left thumb was seriously out of joint, folded across his palm at an unlikely angle and more than a little swollen.  But Morgan also noticed that the fingerless mittens he was wearing did nothing to conceal the skinned and swollen knuckles on both hands that were still seeping blood.  “Should get that looked at,” was all Morgan said, calmly.

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed. 

In the meantime Katie and her team pushed in behind Hotch and Rossi, and they heard other cars coming up.  “Hotch.” Katie said.  They turned and saw Kipling Harris lying on the ground, twitching, a gun near his hand, but there was no blood.  Katie knelt to check.  “He’s alive.”

“Check this.”  Peter said, picking up something from the floor.  “It looks like a taser dart crossed with a shotgun shell.”

“Non-lethal,” Rossi said.  “How much do you want to bet that’s a GlobalSafe prototype?”

“Check the house.”  Katie said to Mike and Kelly, who obediently went off while Peter and Lisa cuffed Harris and hauled him to his feet and out the door.

With a tearing sound Lizzy’s collar parted.  Spencer looked over as Laura pulled the hated thing away.  “There you go.”  He said, briefly rubbing the girl’s neck as she looked up at the two of them with a huge grin.  “It’s a shock collar.”  He explained to Morgan.  “There’s a radio fence around the property, she gets shocked if she gets too close to the boundary.  We had to get it off before we could leave.  Come here.”  He led her into the living room and up to Katie.  “Lizzy, this is my friend Katie.  It’s her job to help kids find their way back home.  Will you let her help you?”

Lizzy nodded.  “Does this mean I won’t see you again?”

“No.  We’ll have a chance to say good-bye, but I have to help Laura now.  Katie will help you until we all get settled and your grandparents get here.  And I promise; you’ll always be able to find me.”

Lizzy nodded, “Okay.”  Before reaching up and taking Katie’s hand.

“Come on hun.”  Katie said.  “Why don’t you show me your room, and we can get what you need.”

“Okay.”

“Upstairs is clear.”  Kelly said as she and Mike came back down.

“Reid.”  Hotch said gently.  “Where is John Rudger?”

“Down in the cellar.”  Spencer replied without looking at him.  Instead he turned his attention back to Laura.  She was looking at Spencer now, and backing slowly away.  “I can’t.”  She said quietly, her hand going over her mouth as if to hold in the emotions.

“Nono.”  Spencer was at her side in a heartbeat, catching her and pulling her against him.  He started whispering into her ear, so quietly that none of them could make it out.  She stood rigidly against him for a few moments, but he coaxed her into relaxing, eventually putting her arms around his shoulders and pressing in to him and finally, finally, nodding.  At that he looked up at Morgan.  “We need to go.  Now.”

“Okay.  Car’s outside. We’ll go get that thumb looked at.”

“Blake.”  Hotch said.  “Go to the hospital with them.  The rest of us will be along shortly.”

“Right,” Blake agreed.  She kind of bundled around Spencer and Laura as he tugged her out the door, his arms still around her.  They tried to get her into the SUV but Laura stopped at the open door.  “I can’t.”  She told Spencer again as she backed away, holding herself.  “It’s cold.  It’s going to be cold tonight.  I can’t…”

“Come here.”  Once again he pulled her into his arms and started whispering to her.  Once again, after a few moments he gently seemed to coax her into relaxing and then into letting him help her into the back seat.  Once there she kept holding herself as her face crumpled in pain and she started down at the floorboards.

It was better than what he saw on Reid’s face, Morgan thought.  I’d rather see that pain.  But his little brother’s eyes were still cold and lost as they slowly drove away.

* * *

 

According to Lizzy you had to go into the sunroom and find the trap door.  Under it were worn wooden stairs leading to the original root cellar.  The five agents crossed carefully in the musty dark, checking every shadow.  At the far end they found a door painted old black to blend in.  Behind it was a spiral stair leading down into the earth.  At the bottom was another door that opened into the space they had seen in the video.  The space was surrounded on three sides by cell bars and beyond them was a tidy, finished apartment with ample space for two adults to live comfortably.  The side they had not seen held a small kitchen area.  “This place is almost nicer than my condo.”  Mike said, stepping through the open cell door.

“Clear fields of fire though.”  Rossi nodded.  “That shotgun explains it; he wanted to be able to subdue them before entering the cell.”  He pointed to a set of handcuffs hanging from one of the bars.  “Then he’d restrain them until he was finished, lock the door, and let them go.  Hotch.”  He nodded toward the bedroom section.

It was the only room that was at all disturbed.  It looked like a fight had gone on, some of the furniture and a lamp were broken, and the bed was mussed and covered in something that looked like blood.  A tall, rangy man lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling with sightless eyes.  While JJ covered him Hotch bent down to check.  “Dead,” he informed them.  “It’s John Rudger.”

“Is it me or was he beaten to death?”  Rossi asked.

“It’s not you.”  Hotch replied.  He looked closer at the sheets, then touched a finger to the blood there, sniffed it, and tapped a touch to his lips.  “Coffee, corn syrup and some kind of red dye,” he told them.  “It’s fake blood.”

“So Reid uses fake blood to convince him that Laura needs medical attention, urgent enough to not go for the shotgun,” JJ said.  “He voluntarily cuffs himself, and then when Rudger’s back is turned…slips the cuffs?”

“His thumb,” Rossi replied.  “Houdini used to dislocate his thumb to slip out of handcuffs.  Reid would know that.”  He looked at the body again.  “Are we saying that Spencer Reid beat a man to death?”  The others looked as shocked as he sounded.  “What the hell happened down here?”

 


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Once at the hospital Laura slipped out of the car and back into Spencer’s arms.  He gently guided her into the emergency entrance, where the staff was already waiting.  “Come on.”  Blake said gently.  “We’re going to get you both checked out.”

At that Laura stopped.  “No.”  She said.

“Come on.”  Spencer told her.  “You need to be looked at.” 

Blake and Morgan looked at each other.  With the exception of Spencer’s hands both victims looked fine; completely healthy.  In fact Laura seemed to be almost glowing with good health.  But Reid wouldn’t say that without good reason.

“No.”  She insisted. “No.  Not here.  No.”

“Then when we get back to DC,” he insisted right back.  “In the next day or two.  Come here.”  He pulled her in and whispered to her again.

Whatever he said she wasn’t thrilled with it, but she gave in.  “All right.”  She agreed.  “All right.”

“Good.  Just stick with Alex while I get this fixed.  She’s great, she’ll help with whatever you need, okay?”  Once Laura nodded her acceptance Spencer looked over at Morgan and held up his injured hand.  “Let’s…do this and get back to DC.  Please?”

“Yeah, probably.  Katie’s team can take the scene.”

As the hospital staff guided them to an exam room and Alex and Laura to a place to wait Laura stopped.  “Spence,” she said quietly, “don’t leave.”

“Never,” he promised.

* * *

 

Once in the exam room Spencer slumped on the gurney while he submitted to the usual round of poking and prodding.  “You okay?”  Morgan asked.

“Adrenalin,” Spencer replied, probably meaning that it was wearing off and he was crashing. 

That, Morgan thought, was understandable.  “Do we need to check anything other than those hands?”  He asked.

“No.”  Spencer replied.  I’m okay.  No narcotics.”  He said to the nurse starting his file.

At least that hadn’t changed.  Morgan waited until they were done with the initial poking and left them alone a bit.  “You know the Unsubs sent us a video, end of September.  You seemed more together then.”

Spencer quirked a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “I was.”

“So when did things go sour?”

“Three weeks ago.”

Damn.  “You want to talk about it?”

Spencer was quiet for a time.  “I don’t think I can.”  He admitted.

Morgan sighed.  Dr. Cargill had prepared them for this.  People whose brains were wired up weird, like Reid and Laura, had a hard time putting emotions into words.  Get them into a calm environment, she said, someplace quiet, orderly, healthy and be patient.  Eventually it would come out.  It would take time but eventually it always came out.  “That’s okay, there’s no rush.  We’re here for you, no matter what.”

“And Laura,” Spencer insisted, with more emotion than he’d shown so far.

“And Laura,” Morgan agreed.  Whatever it took.

Spencer was quiet for a long moment as more adrenalin wore off and he settled deeper into the mattress.  “Did I miss Henry’s birthday…oh god, Mom.”  That made him start up again.

“Easy.  Easy.  Just lay back.  Rossi’s been checking with Dr. Norman, she’s okay.  You want to give her a call?”

“Yes.  No.”  One spurt and now he was crashing harder.  “I should but she probably won’t believe it’s me on the phone.” 

“I’ll ask Rossi to Call Dr. Norman when he gets here.  Maybe we can set up a video call tomorrow.  Speaking of …” Morgan pulled out his phone and dialed lucky #7, “Hey babygirl.  Be nice, you’re on speaker.”

“What happened?  Is he okay?”  Garcia fluttered.

“Hey Garcia,” Spencer replied.

“Oh my god!  You’re there!  You’re okay!”

He sighed, “Yeah.”

“Hey.”  Morgan got his attention.  “No more saying what we want to hear, all right.  You’re not in high school anymore.  Whatever it is we can take it.”

Spencer sighed again and seemed to shrink back inside his skin.  “I’m physically okay.”  He said, “Dislocated my thumb, that’s all.” 

“Yeah, but something else is going on.”  Morgan said.  “And whatever it is we want to help.”

“Yeah, we do.”  Garcia agreed.

Spencer frowned a little.  “I don’t think this can be helped.”

“We’ll figure it out.”  Morgan insisted. 

* * *

 

After Blake asked if there was a private place where they could wait, she and Laura were shown to a small consulting room.  As soon as Laura sat she immediately started rocking back and forth.  “Are you all right?”  She asked, gently.

Laura almost smiled.  “Wish I had something to knit.”  She replied.

Stimming, Blake realized, self stimulation, a way to lower anxiety by blanketing an over-stimulated nervous system with white noise.    “It must be hard, being out with all this busyness after being someplace quiet for so long.”

Laura was quiet for a moment.  “Yeah,” she agreed.  “That’s part of it.  Spence said we could go back to his place, he said it was quiet there.  Figure out what to do next.”

Darn it.  “Unfortunately Spencer’s apartment is under repair.  But one of our teammates, Dave Rossi, has a ridiculously big house and he’s made arrangements for Spencer to stay over with him.  I’m sure he won’t mind if you stay as well.”

Laura considered this again, in the slow sort of way of people who have gone through a lot in one day and are still catching up.  “Maybe a hotel would be better.”  She said, tentatively.

For a moment Blake was almost offended, why would she want them to avoid the team.  But then she saw the blush in Laura’s cheeks and went with her gut.  “No need.”  She said.  “Rossi won’t be offended if you two share a room.”

“Sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“No one’s going to say he’s…”

“He’s?”

“Too young or...something?”

“At thirty-two?”  Blake gave an impatient huff.  “If they do they’ll answer to me.”

Laura relaxed a trifle, “All right.”  She was quiet a few more moments.   “He promised we’d stay together, no matter what.  He promised we’d try again.”

“He always keeps his promises, he’s good that way.  Try what again?”

But Laura didn’t answer.  After a moment she said, “I was going to borrow Spencer’s clothes.  Granted, they’d be way too long on me.” 

“Your housemate Tonya put a suitcase together.  It’s waiting for you.”

“Cool.  I should call her.  I should call my Dad.”  Laura sighed again.  “I can’t handle my Dad right now.  I can’t handle Karen right now.”

“You don’t have to.”  She had every right to make her own decisions, Blake thought.  “But before you call Tonya you should know that they had to move you out of the house when the school year started.  Your father and stepmother came out…”

“…and Karen trashed everything?”

“I’m sorry.”

Laura chuckled without humor.  “That doesn’t surprise me.  It’s okay, hating Karen is kind of familiar.  She did that a few times when I lived at home.  I had a trunk…”

“I…I am sorry.  But, you can start over.”

“No!”  She said with more emotion than she had shown so far.  “We don’t start over!  We try again but we don’t start over!  When you start over you forget.  We can’t forget.  We try again but we don’t forget, Spencer promised!”

“All right.  All right.  Fair enough.”  Blake soothed her back down.  “Can you tell me what happened?”

Laura considered a moment, and then she shook her head.  “I’m sorry.”  She said.

“I am too.”

 


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

“Katie.”  Peter came up to where Katie and Hotch were standing in the kitchen, watching her team and the locals work.  “We found this.”

This was a binder labeled ‘experiment journal’ and filled with meticulously kept notes.  Unfortunately all those notes were in code.  “And the last person we want to ask is our best code breaker.”  Hotch sighed.  “Did you guys see any sign of any kind of an experiment down there?”

“Not so far.”  Katie replied.  “Lots of books, many printed out and spiral-bound on that equipment upstairs and a ton of work, but it’s all in their individual disciplines.  No sign of any cross-over or anything else.”

“Great.”  Hotch sighed and pulled out his phone.

* * *

 

Morgan was sitting there watching his friend’s now completely numb hand being encased in a fiberglass shell when his phone rang.  “That was Hotch.”  Morgan said to Spencer.  “He said they found an experiment notebook Rudger was keeping but it’s in code.  Can you tell us anything about that?”

“Experiment,” Spencer said, thoughtfully.  As Morgan watched some of his old friend began poking through the fog.  He could almost see the infamous IQ starting to rev back up to speed.  “Experiment, that’s a good metaphor; dehumanizing, of course, but a good metaphor.  You could say we were running the first stage of an experiment for him.  Yes, that works.”

Dr. Cargill had said that if you could frame it in logical, unemotional language you might be able to get more sooner.  “So tell me about the experiment, at least what you can.”

“He…profiled for ideal test subjects relevant to his outcome, I believe.  I never had a chance to profile him to…find out if that was accurate but, um, the more we got to know each other the more we noticed certain traits that we had in common.”

“Yeah, we know.”  Morgan inwardly winced as Spencer blinked in that new bit of data.  “I’m afraid you don’t have a lot of secrets left.  Katie got the test results back from Simon Frasier U.”

“I’m assuming this means it’s not schizophrenia.”

“It’s not schizophrenia.  And just so you know, none of us give a damn.”

Spencer quirked a smile at that.  “Good to know.”

“So you decided to work it for him?”

“He…threatened to cut off the water if we didn’t comply.  Not that it was all that…hard, once we got the hang of it.  Laura’s…”  Here he did get a smile, a real one, the gobsmacked smile of a man head over heels in love.  “… a great partner.”  He sighed noisily, then again.  “You know, I don’t give a damn about ethics this time.”

Morgan chuckled.  “She’s your new lady then?  Hang on, hang on, I’m not going to tease.  I just want to be sure.”

Spencer’s ears were turning red, but he nodded.  “Yes, we’re staying together.  We’re going to go back to my place…”

Morgan winced.  “No, you’re not.”

“Why not?”

“You know a Mr. Benton?  Lived up on the fourth floor?”

“Yeah.  He was having some problems.  Mrs. Cavanaugh suspected Alzheimer’s.”

“She was right.  He forgot the stove on.  We saved the box with Maeve’s letters but the water damage took everything else.  I’m sorry.”

Spencer sighed and sagged.  “This might be for the best.  Laura and I can start over.  I don’t know what we’re going to do now though.  Maybe the University Club…”

“Maybe Rossi’s guest room.  He’s already got you set up.”

Spencer stopped to think a moment.  “Laura and I…”

“Rossi’s a big boy, he knows what grown-ups do.”  For a moment he saw Spencer’s eyes close tightly in pain.  “What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, you don’t get to do that anymore.  We’re all adults here, we can take it.  What?”

“She’s…still recovering from the…end of the experiment.  Rossi doesn’t have to worry about that much.”

Wait a minute.  “You sure she shouldn’t see a doctor?”

“I think she should but she…probably still feels too vulnerable.  She wants to wait for a specialist in DC.  She should be fine to travel.”

“You sure.”

Spencer considered a moment.  “94% probability she’ll be fine.”

“All right.  Good enough.  So you started working on his experiment.  Is that why the place was so slick?  Was he trying for compliance?”

“Partially.  Mostly he was trying to optimize variables; conditions as ideal as possible while still holding us there.”

“Why did it take you so long to escape?”

“He never came down.  Only once to deliver his threat, otherwise we didn’t see him.  I didn’t know how to manipulate him into opening the door until the end of the experiment.”

“When he came in to see the results?”

“Yeah?”

“What happened?”

“The…experiment ended early, but we thought…the outcome was good.  But…one uncontrollable variable…he wasn’t pleased with the result…”

“What did he do?”  As Morgan watched the fog that seemed to surround Spencer grew denser.  He watched as he swallowed, tried to get his mouth to work but even the metaphor failed.  “Just relax.  We don’t need to know now.  Can you tell me what happened after?” 

“I thought my part was over, but…he wanted us to try again…”

“And that wasn’t going to happen?”

“Not under those conditions.”  Spencer showed a trace of emotion, finally.  Deep anger.  “Never under those conditions.  Never again.”

“I agree with you there.”  But some instinct hit the brakes in Morgan’s head.  “What about under other conditions?”

Spencer looked at him then, met his eyes for the first time.  Before he sank back into the fog of shock Morgan saw fierce determination and challenge and anger and a longing he’d never seen in his friend before.  “Absolutely.  With Laura.  And if the FBI doesn’t like it they can keep my badge, I’m done.”

“Hey hey, no need to get ahead of ourselves here.  You up to telling me exactly what you two are planning to do?”  As he watched Spencer sank even deeper into that fog.  After a moment he shook his head.  “Okay, how about a when?”

Spencer sighed.  “The Unsub wanted us to start again in another three weeks, but…for…long-term safety another 21 weeks would be ideal.”

Okay, they had some time to work with this.  “Longer sounds better to me.”

“I agree.  Neither of us is really recovered enough.  We might need some help with that but I don’t know…”

“Well, we’ve got time.  What do you need to do first?”

“Food, showers, clean clothes and a good night’s sleep somewhere safe.  Find a specialist for Laura; make sure she’s all right.”  Spencer sighed.  “I’m not thinking much past that.”

“That’s all right; we can work with that for a start.”

 


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

Hotch hung up the phone.  “Whatever happened centered on the end of the experiment.”  He told JJ, Rossi and Katie.  “Apparently the outcome wasn’t what the Unsub was looking for and he reacted negatively.”

“What was the experiment about?”  Katie asked.

“We don’t know; they’re still too upset to communicate about it clearly.  Morgan said that Reid was using the term ‘experiment’ as a metaphor in order to communicate at all.  The only reason why Reid survived was because the Unsub wanted them to try again.”

“Well there has to be some evidence somewhere.”  Katie replied.  “I’ll tell my team to keep their eyes open.” 

“I wonder if the NSA would be willing to give us a hand again.”  Rossi said.  “I bet they have someone who could decode that notebook.”

“That would be a help.”  Hotch replied.

* * *

 

Once all Spencer had to do was let the cast set Laura and Blake joined them.  “Come here.”  Spencer said quietly, pleadingly.   In response Laura stepped over so he could tuck her into his side, and Blake and Morgan stepped back to quietly observe.  She was tiny, they realized, smaller than expected.  “They found John’s notebook.”  Spencer told her, quietly, “His experiment journal.”

As they watched Laura’s eyes filled up with tears.  She considered for a long moment, and then nodded.  “Good metaphor.  I’m not surprised that son of a bitch used it.”

“Yeah.”

“So what happens now?  We go back to DC?”

“Yeah.”

Her eyes started to well up.  “I don’t think I can.”  She admitted as she wrapped her arms around herself and pulled away.

“Yes you can.”  He pulled her in and spoke too quietly to hear.  Once again he got her to calm down and relax against him and finally acquiesce.

“You need to sleep.”  She said, after she’d wiped her eyes.  “You haven’t slept right since…”  She couldn’t finish.

“And you have?”  He ran his fingers through the warm silk of her hair.  “I’ll sleep when you’re safe.”

There was a tap on the door and then a woman with an ID badge, a social worker, came around with Lizzy.  “There you are.”  She said.  Her eyes went wide when she saw Spencer’s cast.  “Wow, you really got hurt.  Did Uncle John do that?”

Spencer looked at the bright purple cast himself and sighed.  “It’s complicated.  Did you get to talk to your grandparents yet?”

“Uh-huh.  They’re coming out tomorrow, and I’m going back to Austen with them, in a real airplane.  I’m supposed to stay here tonight.  What are you going to do?”

“I think we’re going home tonight, so I guess this is good-bye.  But if you ever need us, call Garcia.”

Lizzy said the last with him, with a grin.  “I will.  I won’t forget that number now.  Can I hug you guys?”

“Sure.”  Spencer pulled her in one armed and held her tight.  “Try to be gentle to your grandparents; it’ll take them a while to understand.”

“I will.”  Lizzy said.  “Thanks for teaching me how to cook.”

“Oh, you’re welcome sweetie.”  Laura reeled her in and hugged her as hard as she could.  “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, but I’m glad I’m going home.”

Spencer looked at Laura, who smiled back.  “We are too.”

They said their final goodbyes and the social worker escorted Lizzy back out.  “Is it me or is this really weird?”  Laura asked.

“This whole year has been really weird.”  Spencer replied.  “Definitely down the rabbit hole.”

Laura managed a small smile.  “You remember.”

Spencer nodded.  “I always remember.”  He replied.  “I told you that.”

“Down the rabbit hole?” Morgan asked

“That’s what I told him when he first woke up.”  Laura said.

* * *

 

_Spencer opened his eyes slowly.  His head hurt a giant throbbing kind of a hurt.  He found himself looking up at a blurry concrete ceiling.  Thankfully the bright lights were not directly above him.  He was lying on the floor, there was a bed over there; it wasn’t too bad so he closed his eyes again…._

_A moment later they snapped back open.  Those were bars opposite the bed._

_He quickly scrabbled to a sitting position.  Yes, he was sitting in what looked like a comfortable bedroom but one of the walls was actually iron bars.  Directly across he could see the door to this very strange cell._

_“Ahem.”  Someone, a female someone, cleared their throat._

_He turned in the direction of the sound.  There was a doorway that appeared to lead into a living room.  Sitting cross-legged in that doorway was a woman.  She looked rather elfin, had fairly short red hair, and remarkably intelligent eyes._

_“Good morning Alice.”  She said.  “Welcome to the rabbit hole.  It’s not nearly as entertaining as the cat implied.  Your glasses are on the bed.”_

* * *

 

“You’d been there a while.”  Blake nodded. 

“Yeah, a very long and boring month,” Laura replied.

“Did you see the Unsub at all during that time?’

“Nope.  I didn’t see anyone; I just sent notes to Lizzy.”

“That must have been pretty hard, being in solitary like that.”

“Yeah, it was.  I was very glad to have someone to talk to.  Not that it helped in any other way, not then.”

* * *

 

_“What’s going on?”  Spencer asked her.  “Where are we?”_

_“Those are very good questions.  I don’t have much in the way of answers and the ones I have are less than satisfying.  To answer the first, I have no clue what’s going on.  To answer the second I believe we’re pretty far underground in a cell that’s more comfortable than my dorm room.  As to where that cell is located globally I…have no idea.”_

_“Dorm room,” Spencer got up and started examining the bars.  “You’re a student?”_

_“Grad student at Cornell.  Actually…what is today?”_

_“Not sure.  March 21 st when I left.”_

_“Well I was supposed to be presenting my dissertation on March 24 th.  Something tells me I’m going to miss that deadline.”_

_“I’ll write the committee a letter for you.”  The hinges were covered; the door was locked with a keypad.  He didn’t have a chance._

_“You’re familiar?”  She looked him over.  “From the suit I’m thinking not student.”_

_“Professor.  At Georgetown.  Part-time.”_

_“Only part-time?”_

_“Full time FBI agent.”  No, these bars were solidly set into the concrete.  This was not a makeshift job.  “Is there any other way out of here?”_

_“Seriously?”  She grinned at him.  “I’m feeling safer already.  Only the dumbwaiter.  The walls are solid and the plumbing and light tubes are way too small.”_

_“Dumbwaiter?”  He looked around for it._

_“Over in the kitchen.  That’s how he sends meals and stuff down.  It’s too weak for my weight, there’s no way you would fit.”_

_“Great.”  He went to take a look anyway.  “By the way, I’m Spencer.”_

_“Laura.”_

* * *

 

“But he was more help later?”  Blake asked. 

“Yeah.”  Laura said, resting against him.  “He was.”

 


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

Twice more Spencer had to stop and encourage Laura to keep moving.  By the time they got on the plane the tears were running down her cheeks.  They got the couch, of course, and before everyone was even settled Spencer’s eyes were starting to close.  He murmured something, she responded with a positive sound, and they closed the doors he was already drifting off, using her lap as a pillow.  By the time they took off he was snoring lightly.  “I never thought I’d enjoy that sound.”  JJ said.

As they had boarded Rossi had shooed everyone down to the far end.  Once they could take their seat belts off, he went over and sat across from Laura.  “Here,” he said, offering his handkerchief.  “Let your sleeves dry out.”

She accepted with a small smile.  “Thanks.”  She sniffed.

“We haven’t formally met yet.  I’m Dave Rossi.  And you’re Laura.  It’s nice to finally meet you.”

She nodded.  “I liked your books.”  She said.  “They’re really good.  I guess we’re…staying at your house, at least tonight.”

“You two can stay as long as you need.  Do you like Italian food?”  Laura nodded.  “Good.  I’m going to make something light when we get there, something my Nonna used to make.  What have you two been eating for breakfast?”

Laura sighed, as if even this question ached, “Scrambled eggs, sausage, English muffins with real butter, orange juice and whole milk.  A lot of it was from the farm.”

“If I ate that much cholesterol my heart would stage a rebellion.”

“I’m supposed to.”

“Oh.”  Dave tried to probe gently, “Part of the experiment?”  She nodded.  “You don’t have to anymore; you’re free of that now.”

“Yes, I do.  We can go out…”

“No, no.  I can make eggs, for a few days they won’t kill me.  We’ll have to pick some up though.”

“Hey Rossi,” Morgan spoke up.  “Do you have more than one spare bed?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’ve got my go-bag, how about if I come give you guys a hand?  I’ll stop at the store on the way.”

“Sounds like a plan.”  Dave turned back to Laura.  “Do you prefer coffee or tea in the morning?”

“Either.”  She said.  Then, “Coffee.  Decaf.  For both of us.”

A hush fell over the plane.  “He decaffeinated Reid?”  Dave said, shocked.  “Maybe we should re-profile for torture.”

“Between that and not sleeping well he wasn’t the best company for the first week.”

 “Why wasn’t he sleeping well?”  Dave asked.

“Because he insisted on sleeping on the couch.”

* * *

 

_“Good morning sleepyhead.”  Laura said.  “Shower’s free.”_

_Spencer opened bleary eyes as she headed for the coffee pot.  “Why do you bother?”  He asked, wincing at the surly note in his voice._

_She dropped a pod in the hopper and put her mug on the tray.  They didn’t even have to add water, it was a commercial model wired into the plumbing.   “It’s psychological.  I think it’s important to try to maintain some sense of normalcy.  Coffee means its morning, tea means its afternoon, cocoa means it’s nighttime.”_

_He grunted and rolled off the couch.  It was really a loveseat, cozy for two people to sit.  Not nearly long enough for one tall person to stretch out.  “I apologize.   Starting the day with a headache does not put me at my best.”_

_She sighed.  “Why don’t you sleep in the bed tonight, let me take the couch?  I’ll fit on the thing.”_

_By now he was on his feet.  He looked at her and sighed.  “That would be…less than chivalrous.  Thank you though.  I’m going to…”  He gestured in the direction of the bathroom and gym on the other side of the cellar._

_“Okay.”  The Unsub, as Spencer called him, had not given a sturdy fig for privacy.  If you stood in the kitchen you could see every inch of the bathroom clearly.  They had tied the tablecloth up with some yarn to at least make a bit of a privacy screen for the toilet but polite behavior dictated that when someone was using the bath you ought to go sit at an angle where you wouldn’t see, or turn your back.  Thankfully their desks were placed to allow for this.  She took her mug and went and sat and looked over her notes and tried not to think of the days when her schedule was impossibly full._

* * *

 

“What changed?”  Dave asked.  He could practically see her gears grinding to a halt as she considered all of the ramifications to that question.  It’s never a straight line for them, Dr. Cargill had said, their brains make more connections faster than the rest of us.  Think of it like a computer network, they have more and faster connection between servers, so they can process data faster.  But emotions are like a movie, clogging up the bandwidth, slowing everything down.  Every other process slows down while you download and sometimes things lock up.  As Dave watched Laura locked up.  “Later.  There’s no rush.  Let’s get you home and get some dinner, we can talk another day.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

“You see the problem.”  Hotch was meeting with the man who had been waiting at the University Club.  “Reid is the best code breaker we have but we can’t ask him.  So we’re asking for assistance.  It’s a private code, we believe created by John Rudger, head of R&D at GlobalSafe Technology.   If there’s anything we can do to help….”

But Harvey Petrossian was already looking into John Rudger’s Experiment Journal.  He smiled abstractly, shook his head silently, and dove into the lines of code.

Hotch took the hint and quietly went away.

* * *

 

Down in the bullpen JJ looked over at Blake, “Stockholm Syndrome?”

They had been discussing Spencer and Laura’s strange behavior.  “No, I don’t think so.”  Blake replied.  “With Stockholm Syndrome captives develop bonds with their captors, express empathy and sympathy.  They don’t call them a son-of-a-bitch and beat them to death.”

“But they want to continue his experiment.  Why?”

“I have no idea.”

* * *

 

Spencer and Laura stood in Dave’s kitchen like they had landed on a strange, new planet.  “Relax.”  Dave said.  “It’s not like you haven’t been here before.”

“Not exactly,” Spencer stood there, swaying slightly.   “If I relax too much I might fall asleep on the floor.”

“Not that comfortable.  Come on, this way.”  He led them upstairs.  “You two get showers while I make some of my Nanna’s Pastina con uova, it’s easy on the stomach.  Then get some sleep, you’re safe now.”

At the door Spencer stopped.  “Thank you.”  He said, earnestly.

Dave understood.  Spencer had been protecting Laura for a long time, at least since whatever happened when the experiment ended.  He was simply exhausted from being on guard.  “Anytime.”

The room wasn’t much, a simple guest room with a small, attached bath, but Laura gasped the moment she walked into the room, “My quilt!”  She pulled off the sheet to see.  “You saved my quilt!”

“I talked to your boss, Hickory, when we were running the initial profile.  She said how much work you put into it.  We conspired.”

“Is that the Farmer’s Wife you were telling me about?”  Spencer asked.

“Yes.”  She replied.  She turned and eyed Dave carefully.  “Please don’t take this wrong….”

“I’ll try not to.”  With that she turned and hugged him.  “I never take those wrong.”  He said, returning the squeeze and letting go.

“Thank you.”  She looked over the quilt with the first true pleasure he had seen since he met her, but even that was tempered with whatever was haunting them both.  “I think I’m going to take this as a good sign.  I always meant this quilt for…”  She stopped herself short.

“For?”  Dave asked.  He looked from her to Spencer, they were both almost wincing.  “What?”

“I…think I’ll take the first shower.”  She said.

“Help me figure out the cast cover?”  Spencer asked him.

“Okay.”  He caught the ‘you get this’ hint Laura had been throwing at Spencer.  They headed back down to the kitchen where he extracted the latex waterproof cover from the bag of things from the hospital.  “What?”

“How angry do you think Hotch will be?”  Spencer asked.

“With what?”  Why would Hotch be… “Ah.  How the hell does this thing work?”

“You stretch it over the cast and pump up a vacuum.  It’s SOP, right?  Pacify the Unsub, don’t provoke him, stay alive until the team gets there.  At least it started that way.”  Spencer was staring off at nothing for a moment.  “I honestly never thought I’d fall in love again.  I think Maeve would be glad, she always believed that people shouldn’t be alone.”

“Huh.”  Dave figured it out and help Spencer stretch the waterproofing over the cast.  “We’re human, these things happen, Hotch will understand.”

“We’re getting married.”

Now it was Dave’s turn to reach mental vapor lock.  “Sure you’re in a good place to make that decision?”

“Oh I asked her months ago.”

* * *

 

_“Think they’ll figure it out?”  Laura asked as they watched Lizzy head for the stairs and eventually the phone._

_“I doubt it.  I’m pretty sure everyone suspected that I hadn’t done this before.”  Spencer got up and joined her on the bed, stretching out beside her.  “Why don’t you want to leave?”_

_“Because it’s so still.  And you’re here.  Granted, I’d also do anything to get someplace safe.”  She was quiet a long moment.  “You know…no one is going to be happy about this.  They won’t leave us alone like this.  You know what they’re going to want us…me to do.”_

_“No.”  He said, reaching up to cup her sweet face.  “Absolutely not.  I won’t let them.”_

_“And we’ll keep quiet to not raise a fuss,” She said as if he hadn’t spoken, “…and the next thing you know you’ll be in DC and I’ll be out in California and…”  She took a deep breath, terrified to even finish._

_“Not going to happen.  I’ve wanted this for too long.  You’ve wanted this for too long.  We’re going to be a family, no matter what.”_

_“But you know what they’ll all say.”_

_“I know.  We’ll just have to make it legally binding, and then they can’t say anything.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Marry me.”_

_She sat up to look at him.  “What?”_

_“Marry me.  Make a family with me.  Move into a house with me and…open up a joint checking account.  I don’t know, I just…I don’t want to lose you.  Ever.”_

_She considered this, and him, a long moment.  “You mean that?”_

_“Absolutely. Marry me.  We’ll do this together.”_

_She considered a little more, as her smile grew, slow and sweet as the sun.  “We’re going to be a family.”_

_A family.  He had a family.  A family of his own.  This was what it felt like when your dearest dreams came true.  “Yeah.”_

_“We’re going to be a family!”  And she rolled into his arms and kissed him._

* * *

 

“I promised her we’d be a family when we got out.”  Spencer explained.  “I intend to keep that promise, even if it means turning in my badge.”

Okay, Dave thought, time to turn down the energy on this one before things got out of hand.  Make some space to think.  “I don’t see why it would.  When are you two planning this?’

“Sometime in the next 21 weeks.  Given that I’m having trouble focusing for more than…however long we’ve been talking I can’t be more specific.”

“Well that gives us time.  There.”  One temporarily waterproof cast.  That done Dave set about collecting what he needed for supper.

Spencer just blinked at him.  “You’re okay with this?”

“Why not?  It’s your life.  I think you should take your time with it, but from what I could tell you were thinking clearly until this ‘experiment’ ended.  If you asked her before that…”

“Back in June, actually.” 

“Then I don’t see why not.”  Wait a minute.  “Does this have anything to do with the ‘experiment’?”

Spencer blinked.  “It does help provide an optimal environment.”  They heard the shower shut off.  “Excuse me.”  He headed upstairs.

Dave sighed.  This was going to be more complicated than he thought.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

“Married!”  Garcia exclaimed.  “Reid can’t get married!”

She and Morgan had shown up right after Spencer went upstairs, and had been trailed closely by Blake.  Now, as Rossi started in on supper Blake accepted a glass of wine and settled on one of his counter stool.  “Why not?”  Blake asked.

“Because he’s just been through some kind of major trauma,” Morgan said.  “He’s not thinking clearly.”

“But we have evidence that as of the end of September he was thinking quite clearly.”  Blake countered.  “And according to the story he asked her back at the end of May.”

“Yeah, when they had only known each other, what, two months?”

Blake nodded, “Fair enough.  So, how long do they have to live together to earn your support?  Six months?  One year?  Five years?”

“It’s not about that.”

“No?  Then what is it about?  Is it because he is who he is?  Is it because he doesn’t fit the ideal husband mode?  He’s not Alpha enough, not commanding enough?”

“No…”

“Or is it because you’re having trouble picturing him having a sexual relationship?  Does he have to build up his body and sleep with a few dozen women first?”

“No!”  Morgan sighed impatiently.  “Where is this coming from?”

“Spencer didn’t want to tell anyone, specifically you two and JJ, about his relationship with Maeve because he knew he’d be teased and laughed at instead of supported.  So he shut down and stopped communicating, which lead directly to this mess.  Now if we go in there guns blazing he’s just going to shut down again.”

“Yes, but there is no way he’s in a good headspace to get married right away.”  Garcia protested.

“He didn’t say he wanted to get married right away.”  Rossi pointed out.  “He said sometime in the next 21 weeks, that’s nearly five months.”

“Exactly,” Blake said.  “He’s met someone, he’s in love, and he’s engaged but nothing is set in stone.  I suggest we offer both of them our acceptance so they feel supported enough to open up, even to the point of offering to help plan a nice wedding…a few months out.”

Morgan was nodding, “Which will give them time to at least start to recover and think clearly.”  He agreed.  “Slick.”

“And if, in a few months, they still want to get married then we support them in that decision.”  Blake finished.

“Reid married.”  Garcia sounded a little gobsmacked.  “Heck, Reid with a girl.  It is kind of a concept.  I honestly never thought of him…you know.”

“He did have Maeve.”  Blake pointed out.

“Yeah, but that was all just letters and phone calls.  That’s like having a net boyfriend.  I mean, they’re sharing a room, right?”

Blake looked from her to Morgan, her incredulity rising.  “Spencer is thirty-two and straight, what makes you think he wouldn’t be interested in a sexual relationship?”

“Well…”

“What makes you think he’s never had a sexual relationship?”

“He would have said something!”  Garcia insisted.

Morgan turned to her.  “Like he did about Maeve?”

“Good point.”

“Just because he doesn’t fit your ideal of attractive, or JJ’s, doesn’t mean other women don’t see him that way.”  Rossi looked over from where he was stirring the pot.  “I recall hearing a story about a certain actress named Lila Archer.  Am I making porridge for everyone?”  Everyone nodded so he started cracking more eggs.  “What bothers me is that this apparently relates back to this ‘experiment’.  I’m more concerned with them still living under the Unsubs rules then with them deciding to marry.”

“Well, offering to help with the wedding should help them relax and give us time to ferret out the details.”  Blake said.

Just then they heard a door open and close upstairs.  A few minutes later Laura, cleaned up and tidy, came downstairs.  “Hi.”  She said.

A general hello went around. Garcia got up and went over to meet her.  “Hi.  We haven’t met.  I’m Penelope.  Garcia.”

“Ahhh, the mysterious lady on the phone,” Laura nodded.  “Thank you for everything, by the way.  All of you.”

“Anytime.  So, you two are going to get married?”

Laura nodded.  “And you guys are okay with this?”

“Of course.  We just want him happy, and if that’s you then welcome to the family.”  With that Garcia pulled her into a hug.

When that broke Laura looked like she almost didn’t believe it, but her eyes were growing misty.  “Thanks.  That…kinda really means a lot.”

“So have you given any thought to when?”

“Honestly?”

“Always with us,” Rossi said.  “Even if it comes out wrong it’s better to have something honest to work with.”  He poured the bowl of scrambled eggs in the pot and kept stirring.

Laura settled at the counter with the rest of the group, turned down wine from Morgan but accepted sparkling water.  “Honestly, if you guys were going to give us a hard time like I know my family will we were just going to elope and force the issue.”  From behind, where Laura couldn’t see, Blake gave them all her best ‘I told you so’.  “But given that we need to find a place to live…and a really good therapist…March might be good.  That would be a year after we met.”

March.  It was now the end of November.  “March works.”  Rossi said mildly.  “Gives us all time to plan.”

“March.  In Las Vegas.  For a lot of reasons.”  Laura started off into space and nodded.  “And that is as far as I can go because while I can picture that I’m having trouble picturing tomorrow.  My head is not on straight.”

“That’s okay.”  Blake said, stopping to rub her shoulder gently.  “There’s no rush.”

Rossi added the scallions he had chopped earlier, gave the pot one more stir and started dishing up bowls.  Tiny bits of pasta boiled in chicken broth, then eggs were quickly mixed in and allowed to cook, and the onion for flavor.  He served it with fresh Parmesan.  “Pastina con uova.  Lots of protein and easy on the stomach before bed, which is probably not that far off.”  He said, eyeing the now freshly washed zombie that was making his way down the stairs. 

They all turned to look.  “They really are okay with it.”  She told him, evidently picking up a conversation from before. “You were right.”

“See.  Not your parents.”  He paused long enough to press a quick kiss to her temple before dropping on to one of the stools.  “I told you we’d be all right.”

Rossi raised his glass to Blake.  Right move indeed.

 


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

The next morning dawned clear.  Dave got up at the usual time, made a pot of high-test coffee for himself and Morgan while Morgan went for a run, made his usual bowl of cardiologist-approved yogurt and granola while Morgan made some green thing in his blender, and settled in with the latest notes from his editor while Morgan settled with some case files.  They waited for the sleepyheads to roll out of bed which they did eventually, not long before noon, which was about when he expected.  “Good morning.”  He said when they came down.  “And it is still morning.”

“Good to know.”  Spencer said.  “Thank you, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.  I enjoy the company.”

“You don’t have to cook.”  Laura told him, “If you don’t mind my using your kitchen.”

“Sit bella.  Let me spoil you both for a day or two.”  He went to start with the coffee.  “Now, are you sure about the decaf?”

There was no answer.  After a moment he turned and found her sitting there, her hand over her mouth, her eyes too bright while Spencer gently rubbed her shoulder.  “You could.”  She said quietly, looking at him.

“Not if you’re not.”  He replied.

“I just don’t want…I should still…”  She sighed and turned back to Dave.  “Yeah, decaf.  Please.”

“Okay.”  Dave turned back to the press pot.  There was something about this that was familiar.  Something about this was something he knew.  “So, any plans for the day?’

“I should probably get debriefed at some point.”  Spencer said.

“Ample time for that later.”  Of all people Spencer could take his time before a debriefing.  It wasn’t like he was going to forget. 

Spencer turned to Laura.  “You should see about a doctor.”

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”  She asked.  Spencer shook his head.  “I’m not even ready to leave the house.  I don’t think I can….”  She sighed and drooped again.

“I’m not saying you have to go today.”  Spencer replied.  “Just get online and do some research.  Make an appointment.”

“If you want help you can call Garcia.”  Morgan pointed out.  “Net searches are a specialty.”

Laura sighed.  “No, I can do it.  Can I borrow a computer after breakfast?”

“You can use my tablet.”  Morgan replied.

“Thanks.”

Breakfast happened.  Morgan asked for, and got, a couple of sausage patties to nibble on and Dave decided to help himself to some of the whole grain toast.  They knew that Spencer would burn off anything in a five block radius, so seeing him eat an enormous farmer’s breakfast wasn’t a surprise, but the both privately wondered where Laura put it all.  “Still part of the experiment?”  He asked when it was over.

“Mmm-hmm,” she nodded.  “Can I borrow your tablet now?”  She asked Morgan.

As she moved away from the counter Spencer gave Dave the sigh.  “She’s eating.”  He whispered.  “Don’t stop her.”

“She wasn’t for a while?”

Spencer sighed.  “After everything fell apart she lost her appetite.  Not surprising but she needs her strength back.”

“All right.  Maybe you should find a doctor for her and get an appointment.”  Things might be worse than they were letting on.”

“Maybe.”

All of a sudden Laura put the tablet down, hard enough to get attention.  For a long moment she started glassy eyed at the far wall.  “Would you like some more coffee?”  She asked Spencer, a little too loud.  “I’d like some more coffee.  Mind if I make some more coffee Dave?”

“I can put the kettle on.”  Dave replied.

“No, no.  I am perfectly capable of making coffee.  In fact I’m perfectly capable of a number of things.”  Laura got up and went to fill the kettle, but her movements were too sharp somehow, too nervous.

“What happened?”  Spencer asked gently.

“Someone told my family that I was okay.”  She replied as she watched the kettle fill.  “Dad sent me an e-mail asking me to not contact any of our friends in California because Karen told them all I was dead and she doesn’t want to look like a liar.”

“Nice.”  Morgan muttered.

“He wants me to pretend to be dead.”  She looked at Spencer, her eyes glassy again, anger mixing with something else in her voice.  “He has absolutely no clue what that means.”

“Laura…”

“Not a clue.  He doesn’t realize that means you’re not here anymore.  He doesn’t realize that means you’re meat!  All he cares about is keeping that crazy whore happy so he won’t have to stand up to her!”  Thankfully Dave had a sturdy kettle, because it hit the counter harder than it should.  “What kind of a father won’t even stand up to someone who just uses harsh language to defend their daughter?”

Dave and Morgan stepped back as Spencer stepped around the counter to try to settle her.   
“Love…”

“Not a good one.”  She continued, backing away, her eyes too bright, her hands coming up against him.  “Now I know.  A good father would do anything for his daughter.  A good father would do anything for any of his children.  A good father would hurt himself to protect them until he threw up from it!  A good father would get between them and a gun!  A good father would do anything so why does he get to be one and…and….” Something broke, just then.  She threw a punch at his shoulder, the kind you throw when the pain is too much, and she let out a heartbroken wail and crumbled to the ground.  He caught her as she fell, pulled her into his lap and his arms as she wailed out the emotion she’d been holding in so long.  “It’s not fair!  It’s not fair!”  She said as she sobbed.

“Shhh.”  Spencer tried to soothe her as he cradled her and rocked her.  “I know.  I know.”

Dave looked at Morgan.  “Go tell Hotch.”  He said.  “We’re all missing something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally posted chapter 36 as chapter 35. Please go back and read chapter 35, it's different now. Sorry.


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

Earlier that morning Hotch received a delivery.  Harvey Petrossian had sent the translation, and a note addressed to S. Reid, over by messenger.  Hotch immediately set the note aside and started reading the journal from the back forward.  A quick skim revealed that the Unsub was glad that the pair had been recovering well and that they were accurately following appropriate protocols, whatever that meant. 

And then he spotted something that had him picking up his phone.  “Cole,” said the voice on the other end.

“Katie.”  He replied.  “Has your team come across a freezer yet?”

“Not yet, why?”

“I had Rudger’s journal decoded.  It says that he put the remains of the failed experiment in the deep freeze for Harris to dispose of off-site.”

“Well, we haven’t seen a deep freeze.  But we’ve been concentrating on the barn; it looks like that’s where the girls were being held while they were filming.”

“Mind if we come out and have a look.”

“Not at all.”

“All right.  The plane is available, we should be there in about ninety minutes.”

Ninety minutes later, he, JJ and Blake were driving up to the Rudger farm.  “I thought she said they were concentrating on the barn.”  JJ commented as they drove up to the busy house.

Mike from the IIU team was waiting for them.  “Katie found it in the utility room.”  He told them quietly.

They followed him to the back of the house, threading their way through the local officers and the other agents, all of whom were completely silent.  In the cramped utility room they found Katie, standing there while forensics took the last of the pictures.  “What is it?”  Hotch asked.  Katie motioned them forward to have a look.

There, buried under the piles of frozen vegetables and cans of orange juice, was a very small newborn baby.

She had her father’s chin and her mother’s nose and had been wrapped in a soft blanket, the kind of thing a mother makes for a baby she wants and loves.  And they didn’t need the coroner to tell them what had happened.  “He snapped the baby’s neck.”  Blake said bitterly, her eyes already damp.  “Why?”

“The experiment was a failure.”  Hotch said, his own eyes too bright.  “He wanted them to try again.”

“Farmer’s rules.  An animal won’t ovulate while breastfeeding.  You want it to breed again right away, take away the baby so its milk will dry up.”  The coroner was there, waiting.  JJ turned to her.  “If we’re right I put my son into this baby’s father’s arms hours after he was born.  May I…”

The coroner nodded.  “Sure.”

JJ reached down and ever so gently scooped the little body up and took her out to the waiting van, Hotch and Blake close behind.  All of the officers around them were silent, an honor guard for the horrible loss.  We have to get this right, she thought as she gently lay the tiny body down.  There is no other way.

When she turned back Hotch was on the phone.

* * *

 

Dave hung up the phone and sighed.  Right before Hotch had called Spencer had taken Laura upstairs to rest after her breakdown.  Of course now it all made sense.  Now he remembered how it had been.

He got up and went into his office, closing the door behind him.  He took a leather bound book from a locked cabinet and sat there with it in his lap a long moment.  Before he realized it his phone was back in his hand.  He set it down gently.   “Hey Carolyn,” he said.  “Look at me, I’m about to call you and ask you for help.  Shows you how good I’m doing today.

“Remember that kid I told you about?  The one that’s a better agent than guys twice his age?  The one who’s father was an asshole but who turned out good anyway?  I never told you that he’s just the right age, you know.  Not really a kid anymore.  Especially not now.  Long story short he and this girl just lost their baby, and I don’t think it was God’s will this time.

“I don’t want them to hurt like we did.

“So I was about to call you and ask you what the hell I should say and do now.  I know this is never going to go away but I don’t want this to tear them apart.  I don’t want them to end up like us.  So, you know, send me some…inspiration when I get there.

“Damn I miss you.”

He brought the book into the kitchen and waited.  When Spencer came back down, slowly, heavily, he motioned the younger man over.  “Come here.”  He said.  “I need to tell you a story. Back when I got back from Vietnam Carolyn, that would be my first wife, and I decided to get married.  We didn’t want to make the same mistakes our friends made, we didn’t want to put the baby before the wedding or have one right off and end up raising it in some crappy tenement somewhere.  So we waited, took our time, focused on work until we could get a house, some money in the bank, do it right.  Once we had everything just so we chucked out the condoms and next thing you know our son was on the way.”  He opened the book and showed him the pictures.  There was the history of their son, of Carolyn’s pregnancy, her belly getting bigger as the months past, the two of them so happy.

Dave saw confusion rippled over Spencer’s face.  “I didn’t know you had a son.”  He said.

Dave nodded.  “James David, named for our fathers.  He’s buried next to his mother.  He only lived a day.” 

Now those walls fell, and he saw that same bottomless grief he remembered so well.  “I’m sorry.”  Spencer said softly.  “How…”  But he shook his head, not asking.

Dave answered anyway, “Agent Orange, not that we knew it at the time.  If we had we would have made other arrangements.  No, we blamed ourselves and each other, then and when it didn’t work in the future, and we got wrapped up in work which did work and the next thing you know we weren’t really married anymore.  If having someone to talk to will keep that from happening…”  He didn’t even look concerned.  That was good, he thought, they’re solid.  Spencer deserves that, above everything.  “I can tell you it never goes away.  You get used to carrying it but it never goes away.  The last thing Carolyn asked me was if I thought he would be there waiting for her.  I said I thought he would be and I think yours will be too.”

“Margaret.”  Spencer said gently, so gently that Dave knew that he was the first one other than the two of them to hear it out loud.  “Margaret Faith, for our grandmothers.  Maggie.”

“Maggie.” Good, Dave thought, that was good.  If they all saw her as a real person, one who lived and was loved and is missed, it would help them move through the grief.  “Hotch called.   They found her.”  It wasn’t hope that he saw then, Spencer knew his daughter was gone.  “She’s at the coroner, they’re going with her.  I don’t know what you two want to do…”

“We want to say good-bye.”  Spencer said softly.  “We never had the chance.”

“Well, when we get back we’ll have a proper funeral and a chance to say good-bye.  We can make all the arrangements if you like.” 

“That would…”  Now it was Spencer’s turn to stand there, too tight, too rigid.  “I don’t…”

Dave laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.  “Stand down Agent.”  He said.  “Everyone is safe.  Your family is coming home.”

That was what was needed.  As he watched Spencer shuddered.  “She was so _little_.” He said as the dam broke and he nearly crumpled under the weight of his grief.  Dave caught him and pulled him in as he wept for his dead.

 


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

When he could walk again Spencer went upstairs and lay down next to Laura.  As he suspected she wasn’t sleeping, she was lying there silently weeping.  “It isn’t fair.”  She said again, quietly this time.  “You’re a good father, you deserved her.”

“And you’re an amazing mom.”  He reached for her, felt her come into his arms, rest her head over the comforting beat of his heart.  “They found her.”  He said and felt her soften against him.  “They’re bringing her home so we can say good-bye.”

She was quiet a long moment.  “Is it…weird that I’m really glad that they’re bringing her home?  I mean, I know she’s…gone and we’re going to take her to the cemetery, but it still seems like we’re bringing her safely home for some reason.  I mean, I know she’s not still in there….”

“But it’s good to know that she’s safe anyway.  I know there’s no empirical proof of a deity or an afterlife, but my best hypothesis based on experience is that there is.”  He replied.  “And that living beings are composed of some kind of spirit in addition to the physical matter of their bodies.  While I know that whatever made up her spirit isn’t housed in that body anymore I can reasonably speculate that she is or will be going somewhere that, at least based on my experience, is somewhere very safe and warm.”  They’d had a variation of this conversation almost every day for the past three weeks.   It seemed like every time it made things a little bit better.  “And I know your mother and Haley will look after her for us. “

“And Maeve,” Laura said, “Because she loved you.”

“I wasn’t going to go there.”

“And I told you that I wasn’t upset about your loving before.”  She was quiet a moment.  “Martha’s there too.  She left me her wedding shawl.  Her son’s wife didn’t want it and she didn’t have grandchildren.  And she left a blanket for my first.”  She sighed, “Something to remember them both by.”

Oh goddamn it.  His arm instinctively tightened around her.  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.  Her spirit had been trying to leave for a while.  I just wish she could have known I was safe before she went.”  She managed another of those small smiles.  “Maybe Maggie will tell her.  Martha was crazy about her you know.  At least crazy about her in concept, she was really disappointed when her son and his wife decided not to have children.  She was the first one who supported my wanting them.”  Laura’s eyes grew damp again.  “She would have loved her so much.”

“She is.”  Spencer replied.  “No, she will.”

“I know.”  She replied with a groan.  “It just feels like she hasn’t moved on, like I can’t move on.  I feel like we really need to do this.  I don’t know why.”

He considered a moment.  “I think it’s so she can see that we’re still her family, even with her gone.  All of her family.”

Now it was her turn to be quiet.  “What if they’re not okay with this?”

“They are.”  He said.  “I think they finally understand.  And even if they don’t I don’t care anymore.”  He cupped her chin so she would look up at him.  “I meant what I said; we’d get free, get married, get you healthy again and then when we’re ready we’ll fill a home with children, as many as you want.  I’m keeping that promise.  We’re still a family.”

She smiled that smile that was tinged with sadness now and nestled back against him.  “Family,” she repeated.

“Family.”

* * *

 

Once Morgan got over his initial rage he told Garcia.  Once she got over her initial bout of tears she swung into action.  But this time she thought to tap her resource list first.  And on that list was a counselor who specialized in parents who lost infants.  “What do we do?”  She asked, the tears running down her cheeks again.  “What do we say?   I mean we just found out this morning and we’re going to go talk to them and we don’t want to screw this up….”

“Well I can tell you what not to say.”  The counselor said.  “Don’t say it was meant to be, if children come into this world just to die then this world is too cruel to live in.   
Don’t say everything happens for a reason, if there was a reason then what was it?    
Don’t say you can have another child; another child won’t replace the one they lost.  
Don’t say God needed another angel, if God sent her just to take her then He is a heartless bastard.   
Don’t say she is in a better place; a better place is with the parents who love her.  
Don’t say time heals all wounds, time never heals this wound.  
Don’t say you can handle this; God never gives more than we can handle.  This is unique and might just be the thing they can’t handle.  
Most of all, never, ever say know how you feel, because you sure as hell do not know how they feel.”

“Okay.”  Morgan said.  “I can get with that.  But what do we say, what do we do?”

“Listen.”  She replied.  “Don’t avoid them or avoid the subject just because grief hurts.”

“I know.”  Garcia said.  “With him it’s like dealing with a sad puppy, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.  You want to help your friend?  Suck it up and be there for him anyway.  Now the one thing that most parents fear most of all is that their child will be forgotten.  Don’t let that happen.  Remember her name and use it.  Ask them what they did to prepare for her, what their dreams were for her, learn everything you can about her to help them carry this burden.  Remember what anniversaries mean the most to them and say something.  Help them plan a funeral if they want so she has a proper memorial.  By honoring her memory then you’re reassuring them that she won’t be forgotten. 

“Remember that they are parents just like any other and deserve to be treated as parents, if they want to be.   Remember them on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day if you remember other parents on those days.  If you pick up extra work so parents can go home early then pick up his and let him get home to his partner.  Remember that baby’s first Christmas is coming up and if the baby was due by then that they are going to have a lot of dreams around that that are gone now.  The holidays can be hell, they’re so child centered they turn into minefields.  If you can, and they want, get them involved in adult-only celebrations, preferably ones without alcohol, so they can remember at their own speed.”

“Oh god!  Henry!”  Garcia gasped.  “His godson…”

“He might not be able to see him for a while; it might be too painful a reminder.  Ask his parents to try to explain, children have an amazing ability to understand.  Most parents retreat at this time; some can’t even go out in public because seeing other babies and children can bring back all the grief.  Offer to run errands if you can, just to give them more time.”

Morgan nodded.  “If I’m reading it right they’re already talking about having more children, trying the ‘experiment’ again.  Is that even healthy?”

“Sometimes.  They talk about the danger of so-called ‘replacement children’, siblings of deceased children whose parents try to force them into taking on the dead child.  It can happen.  But that’s usually the case of older children, and of parents who didn’t have a chance to adequately grieve before the next child comes around.  For most couples it’s simply that they’re going about the business of being parents.  Parents have and raise children, they dream of them, they dream for them, they plan for them and then they have them.  And your friend is a parent now, he’s a husband and father even though he has yet to formally marry and his only child has passed on.  When the time comes, show your support of the commitment he’s making to his partner and then support them as they add to their family.  First support them as they mourn the dreams and the future they lost, and then when they’re ready encourage them to dream new dreams and plan a new future.”

“Reid someone’s dad.”  Morgan marveled.  “I never even considered it.”

Garcia chuckled even as she wiped her cheeks.  “Well you have until we get over there to figure it out.”

 


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

His family was safe.

Spencer leaned against the wall in Dave’s upstairs hall and let out an exhale that seemed to come from the base of his spine.  His family was safe.  Laura was napping, finally. It seemed like she was still not entirely recovered from her ordeal, from pregnancy and childbirth and Maggie’s loss and having to dry up her milk and regain enough stamina to walk, possibly through snow, since they hadn’t known what was waiting for them up top.  She would have made it, he knew that, but she had pushed herself hard on top of the pain of grief and now she really needed time to rest and heal.  And Maggie, tiny Maggie who had fit in his hands and who had only ever cried twice in her too short life, was being safely watched over by Hotch, JJ and Alex.  As much as he hadn’t trusted them with his emotions for the longest time he knew in his bones that he could trust the team with his family.  They would look after Maggie like she was one of their own.

His family was now safe.

He didn’t feel any actual guilt over Maggie’s passing.  He had done everything he could to protect her and Laura, up to and including putting himself, unarmed and helpless, between them and Rudger’s shotgun.  He couldn’t blame himself for mucking up the profile, Rudger had simply not communicated with them at all, possibly in an attempt to avoid being profiled.  He couldn’t blame the team, they had tried their best but Rudger and Harris were not unintelligent men, they had profiled the team and knew how to avoid them.  He couldn’t even blame himself for not taking the true meaning of that shotgun into consideration; the dammed thing was a prototype.  He had literally taken every variable he had into account; he just hadn’t had enough of them.

But his family was safe at last.

All he could do now was say good-bye.  Say good-bye to little fingers that never stopped moving and fine brown curls and a little weight that had snuggled in to his chest and fell asleep in perfect trust.  Say good-bye to wondering when she’d start reading or if she was a genius too.  Say good-bye to wondering if she would be tall like him or elfin like her mother or somewhere in-between.  Say good-bye to college and graduation and watching her change the world.  Say good-bye to walking her down the aisle.

And once all those dreams were laid to rest…no, he could barely think of them now.  But he could sense, just on the edges, new and brighter dreams.  Dreams of walking down the aisle himself and creating a bond that would never be broken, of having the support of the people he cared about in ways he never thought he’d have.  Dreams of coming home after the hard cases to warm, welcoming arms and a place that would shelter him from all the coarseness and cruelty in the world.  And dreams of a swelling belly and that intense, joyful look on her face when the baby slipped free, and first words and graduations all over again.

His family was safe at last.

But before he could dream again he had to see one of them to rest.

He went downstairs, only to find Morgan and Garcia waiting.  They both knew, he could tell, and he first thought ‘I cannot do this.  I cannot hide this for them this time’.  But Garcia turned to him and the first words out of her mouth were, “You don’t need to act okay for me.  I bet she was beautiful.”

A wave of relief washed over him.  The emotions were here now, they had processed enough that he could feel them, he could wear them on his skin.  Now he knew he couldn’t put them away again anytime soon.  “I don’t think I can.”  He admitted.  “She was.”  They both came over and hugged him.  “Sorry I couldn’t explain.”

“That’s okay.”  Morgan said.  “Everything takes time.  Now without making up stuff just to make us feel better is there anything you need?”

Of course the minute they asked that his brain started swirling.  “Probably a lot.  A funeral.”   Which meant he was going to a funeral.  He was not showing up at his daughter’s funeral in jeans and t-shirts, she deserved better.  The world needed to see how much they valued her. “Something to wear to a funeral.  A place to live…”

“Worry about stuff like that after the funeral.”  Dave counseled.  “Get from here to there first.”

“I can help you go get the suit.” Morgan said, “Maybe a haircut.”

“After.”  Maggie had known her father with long and shaggy hair; it didn’t feel right to change that before they said good-bye.

“And I’ll go get something for Laura, if she doesn’t want to go out.”  Garcia offered.

Wait.  “She needs to see a doctor.”  Spencer told her.  “The only pre- and post-natal care she had was what I could manage with a textbook and since we’re planning to have more she needs to be healthy…”

“Oh, I can totally find a doctor for her.”  Garcia said.  “That is so not a problem.”

“One who can be sensitive to everything…”  There were words for the concepts in his brain, but at the moment he couldn’t find them.  “Maybe a midwife…”

“Not to worry, I’ll find someone perfect.”

“We need to stay healthy too.  You know, eat healthy, I’ve been running…”

“You’ve been running?”  Now that surprised Morgan.

“There was no other way to burn off energy.”  Spencer admitted.  “Physically I feel great, well except for…”  He raised his casted arm.  “I want to keep it up I think.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“And I’ll make sure you two eat healthy until you find a place to live.”  Dave told him.  “I take it she’s eating for the next ‘experiment’, huh?”

Spencer quirked a smile, “It’s still hard to talk about.”

“That’s all right; do what you have to, at least we’re on the same page.  But why all the cholesterol?”

“The human brain is born with 100 billion brain cells, and only continues to add more in most of the brain through age two.  More…complicated brains don’t have more cells but they have more axons.  An axon, from Greek, axis, is a long, slender projection of a nerve cell, or neuron, that typically conducts electrical impulses away from the neuron's cell body. The function of the axon is to transmit information to different neurons, muscles and glands.   Now myelin is an electrically insulating material that forms a layer, the myelin sheath, usually around only the axon of a neuron and is essential to its functioning.  In humans, the production of myelin begins in the 14th week of fetal development, although little myelin exists in the brain at the time of birth. During infancy, myelination occurs quickly and continues through the adolescent stages of life.”

By the time he finished the three others were slowly smiling.  “I never thought I’d be so glad to hear another Reid lecture.”  Morgan said.  “So what does that have to do with cholesterol?”

“Myelin is made out of cholesterol, almost entirely.  While there’s no guarantee that genius is genetic…”

“…she doesn’t want to keep it from developing due to lack of proper building materials.”  Dave nodded, “Thoughtful Momma.”

“Yeah, she is.”  Oh, that hurt, to remember how careful she had been, they had been, nurturing that slowly growing dream.

“Well we’re going to do what we can to help, whatever it is.”  Garcia said, rubbing his shoulder.

“Thank you.”  They understood.  They weren’t laughing and teasing.  They were actually there for his family like they had been before it all went south with Emily.  How remarkable.  Add that to the list of thing Maggie had done in less than a day, she re-built his extended family.  “Thank you.”

 


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

“Okay, so how did he do it?”  Katie and Blake were down in the cellar, trying to work out the crime.  Now Katie stepped back and took a look around.  “Laura’s given birth less than twenty-four hours before so she’s probably in bed with the baby.”

“Yeah.  That bed’s big enough for all three of them and all of the furniture is bolted down so Spencer can’t move a chair in there, so he’s in bed with them.”  Blake nodded.  “He sees Rudger come in, you can’t miss it from this angle.  His first instinct would be to get between Rudger and his family.”

“But he doesn’t have any way of stopping Rudger.”

“No, but by then he would know that Rudger wants the baby.  And Rudger has been so careful up till now; trying to control every variable he’d know that Rudger would want Laura to breastfeed.  But he doesn’t need Spencer any longer, he’s played stud, he’s played nurse, he’s played midwife, now he’s just another mouth to feed.  And Spencer would know it.”  Blake turned; playing out Spencer’s part.  “He’d ask to move to another part of the cell, less danger of a ricochet, and so Laura wouldn’t have to see it.  Either Rudger answers or he doesn’t, either way he knows something Spencer doesn’t, it’s a non-lethal round.” 

Katie lifted her hands, mimed the faint ‘boom’ of a shotgun.  “Reid goes down only not like dead weight.  He goes down thrashing, his muscles jumping from the tazer shot, maybe making sounds from the pain.  Laura hasn’t seen anyone tazed, she panics, gets out of bed and runs to him.  But she’s not used to the baby yet so she’d leave her in the bed.”  She mimed another boom.  With both of them incapacitated Rudger enters the cell.  He drags them over and cuffs them both to the bars to restrain them.”  She nodded at the handcuffs hanging off the bars.  “Then he goes to check on the baby.  Now it looked healthy to me, assuming the coroner confirms that what would he see that caused him to believe that the experiment failed?”

“Gender,” Blake said bitterly.  “He was a Men’s Rights activist; I bet he wanted a son.  So he takes the baby, locks the cell, unlocks the cuffs….no, he wouldn’t.  She’s a preemie; has to be.  He’d have to unswaddle her to look; the shock of the cold air would start her screaming and squirming, too hard to hold while he locked up.”  Blake was standing beside the bed; she could see it in her mind’s eye, the parents, now in control of their muscles again, fighting frantically to get free, the small baby screaming. “He did it right here.  That’s why they weren’t frantic to find her when we got here.  He did it in front of them.”  She mimed a quick twist, like wringing the neck of a chicken.  All of a sudden there would be silence.  She could see the shock, the horror on her friend’s face.  “Bundled her up in her blanket, stuck her under his arm, locked the cell door, unlocked the cuffs, and went on about his business.  But why did it take them so long to escape?”

“Oh come on, you’ve had new mothers come back to work before.”  Katie said.  “You’ve never had one wait too long to switch to a bottle, then they’re complaining for weeks about how engorged they are?  He would have had to wait for her to recover and dry up her milk supply, and then build back her strength; he didn’t know how far they’d have to walk.”

“Why not just call?”  Blake asked.

“Rudger changed the password on the computer to voice activation, probably after he caught Lizzy using it.  There was no other phone in the house and who knows if he can trust the people across the way, Lizzy couldn’t get close enough to check.  You know, I can just picture them having to do that, having to bind her up, to hurt Laura when he wanted to coddle her; to wash the sheets to get rid of the smell.  It would be like they were erasing Maggie altogether.  No wonder they’re a mess.  But then how did he trick Rudger?”

“He got Lizzy to send down corn syrup and food coloring.”  Blake said.  “And made some coffee to make it look like a uterine discharge, like maybe she had an infection from the birth.  Hold on…”  She went and looked in the basket by the chair.  “There’s cotton yarn down here, the only stuff unwound.  So he takes the string, ties one end around his thumb, and the other….the other to one of the weights in the exercise room.   He’d need to get some drop on it, maybe using the bars or the treadmill.  Tie it tight, let it go and…”   She could see it, Spencer’s face contorted in agony as his thumb was almost ripped off.  “He’d have to ensure that he tore the tendons and popped it out of joint.  He wouldn’t be able to use it but once the swelling went down it would be loose enough to fold over.  Then he got Laura into bed, poured the fake blood over her thighs, and sent a note up to Lizzy causing her to panic.”

“Lizzy’s panic makes Rudger think it’s an emergency.”  Katie nodded.  “He comes down here to see what’s going on and Reid sells it.  He begs him to check, he’s not a doctor, he’s not even a vet.  You don’t need the shotgun, I’ll cuff myself.  And he does, those mitts he was wearing would conceal the bruising on his hand.  Rudger makes sure the cuff is tight, enters the cell, goes to check Laura, Reid folds his thumb in, slips his hand out of the cuff, and now it’s just him and the bastard who killed his baby girl.”  She looked at the destroyed bedroom and sighed.  “You know, I can’t say I blame him.”

“Hotch is calling it self-defense, no one is questioning it.”  Blake looked round again.  “Once Rudger is down Spencer gets Laura moving.  They go upstairs, Spencer finds the shotgun, probably double checks the computer, they change into clothing for the weather, and start working on Lizzy’s collar when Harris comes in.  Reid has no qualms about firing, he knows it’s a non-lethal round, so when Harris pulls his gun, boom.”  She sighed.  “And then we walk in.”

Katie nodded, “The end.”

* * *

 

Hotch hung up his phone and joined JJ in the lobby of the coroner’s office, where they had been, drinking too much bad coffee, eating junk food out of the machine, and waiting.  JJ simply could not stop quietly crying.  “I still remember when I asked Spence to be Henry‘s godfather.”  She said at one point.  “He’d just come back from the Riley Jenkins case and I put Henry in his hands and he just looked down at him and said ‘Hello Henry’ in this kind of wowed, astonished voice.  I can just hear him talking to her in that same voice, ‘Hello Maggie.  I’m your father’. “  She groaned.  “Tell me we did everything we could.”

“We did.”  Hotch replied.  “These were remarkably well-organized Unsubs.  They had this planned specifically to counter us from the beginning.  But they didn’t think that Lizzy would be told to take down license plates.  They didn’t expect Reid to be able to communicate with her that well.”

“How do we make this right Hotch?  How do we fix this?”

“We can’t.  There is no fixing this.  There’s only going through and supporting them while they make their lives make sense again.”

They were quiet a while, then…  “This is karma, you know.  Some kind of divine retribution.”

“How so?”

“We made him grieve for no reason, we watched his suffering knowing we could alleviate it and yet we did nothing.  Now we have to watch it again, only worse, knowing we helped cause it, and there’s not a dammed thing we can do to make it right this time.”  She sighed.  “No matter what they do in the future we’re never going to shake this guilt, are we?”

“I don’t know.”  Hotch said.  “Maybe when their lives make sense again.  Maybe when we help them do that.  I don’t know. “

The coroner came out, “Baby Jane Doe?”  She asked.

They stood.  “Not Jane Doe.”  Hotch said, “Margaret Faith Reid.”


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

It was strange.

Spencer sat in Rossi’s back yard on that warm Indian summer day and considered the strangeness of it all.  The last time he had been here it had been a warm, summer evening and JJ and Will had gotten married.  After the wedding he’d gone home and written Maeve to tell her all about it.  He recalled sitting right here and dreaming of Maeve, what she might look like, what their wedding would be like.  He had loved her, of that he had no doubt, but in the end he still wasn’t sure if the woman he loved had been the woman or the dream.

Laura was real.

Laura was real.  She was flesh and blood.  She was a little powerhouse that never seemed to shut down, that was always moving, doing, something.  She was real hopes and real dreams and real plans to make the world better somehow.  She was arms that reached for him in the night and hunger and heat and quiet murmurs of longing.  And she didn’t see him as some overgrown child who needed protection, she saw him as an equal, a collaborator, a friend.  And she saw him as a man who could and would protect her and their children as best he could.  He didn’t think anyone had ever done that before, ever.

No, Lila had.  It was part of her appeal back then, that she trusted him like that.  There was something about that that just made him feel so humble and so strong, all at once.

Garcia came out, bearing her own coffee cup.  “Hey.”  She said gently as she sat beside him.  “How are you doing?”

It was an invitation to talk.  “I can’t decide.”  He admitted.  “Sometimes it hurts so bad I’d swear I was dying, but other times I’m probably the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“I can guess why it hurts.”  Garcia said gently.  “Why the happy?”

“Laura.  We’re out and she wants to stay.  She wants to keep going, you know, keep our family.  I honestly wasn’t a hundred percent certain it would last out here.”

“What were her plans before all this happened?’

“Up in the air.  She was on the verge of a major transition, getting her degree and leaving the university.  DC had been one of the places she’d been considering, she was going to see if she could get some grant money together, set up a program here or in Baltimore, Detroit, some big city with a large low-income population.  Before the Unsub got involved she was talking about how I might be the deciding factor, she was thinking about here so we could continue to…”  How to put it?

“Go out.  Date.  Boyfriend/girlfriend thing.”  Garcia supplied.”So this isn’t just because of what happened, the baby and everything, you two really liked each other back at the beginning.”

“Yeah.  The Unsub profiled for a pretty good match.”  He looked into his coffee for a long moment.  “That and it feels good to have you guys back again.”

“Yeah, I bet.  I’m sorry.”  She said sincerely.  “I was so worried about you after what happened with Maeve, I didn’t realize that maybe you just couldn’t talk at all.”

“I was knocking.”

“I know.  That was totally my bad and I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay.  But all this has made me realize that I really need a computer to bring home.  I probably could have sent e-mail.”

“E-mail?”  Garcia was kind of shocked.  “You really wanted to be consoled over e-mail?”

“No.  But I could have told you that I wasn’t able to talk and sent you a link to why.  I actually would have liked someone to just sit with.”

“Oh.  See, I am totally getting you a tablet, you and Laura both.”  She moved and sat next to him, so she could hug.  “I’m surprised you were talking at all when we got there.”

“Laura and I didn’t talk at all at first, except for when we had to.  Oh!”  There it was again, that bright, hot pain on top of memory.

* * *

 

_Laura stood there in the pale light of the snowed over skylights and let the towel fall._

_They had both been body shy at first but months of intimacy followed by growing through childbirth together had eliminated all the physical barriers.  But tonight he wasn’t, couldn’t look at her with any kind of lust.  Tonight there was nothing but silence, complete, shocking silence and the bottomless well of pain that absorbed all sound.  “I’m sorry.”  He whispered.  “We have to.”_

_“I know.”  She murmured on a breath._

_She was so achingly beautiful.  He’d been struck, that first time, by how small her body was, how so much energy and passion could be contained in so little skin.  Now her breasts were amazing, twice their normal size, stretched taut with the effort of containing everything Maggie needed to survive, pale with a tracery of blue veins, leaking liquid energy to the air, an absolute living miracle.  But now there was no Maggie to need that energy her mother would have gladly, joyfully given her.  Now her mother needed that energy, to be free of this place so she could later pass that on to Maggie’s brothers and sisters.  Now her body needed to be convinced that it needed to stop.  And doing that to her was impossibly hard and cruel, especially on this day.  But sometimes, he thought, remembering when Hotch told Jack to go solve the case, to leave his mother and go hide, sometimes fathers have to be hard and cruel to protect their children.  I couldn’t protect Maggie, he thought, although I wanted to and I tried.  But I can still do something about the ones to come.  “I’m sorry.”  He murmured again as she lifted her arms and he stepped to her side.  “You really are beautiful.”  She just sighed in reply, the tears running down her face as he started wrapping the bandages tight around her._

* * *

 

“You okay?”  Garcia asked.

Spencer nodded.  “It happens.  Happened after Maeve and Emily, sometimes a memory comes up.  They’re so real and it just…”

“I know.  I’m sorry.  I still get that way about my parents sometimes.  I don’t think it gets easier, you just learn to process.”  Garcia snuggled him in tight.

“Hey,” said a voice behind them.  They turned as Laura stepped out into the sun.  “Oh.”  She said, with that sudden shocked look and gasp that told him that she’d just been swamped by the pain too.

“Come here.”  He held his arms open to her, waited until she could move, could come and settle near to him.  “Okay?”  He asked as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Yeah.  It’s just sun, you know.  The sky.”

All things Maggie never got to see.  A look told him that Garcia understood too, “Yeah.”


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter 42**

“Was that your knitting in there?”  Laura asked Garcia.

“Yeah,” she replied.  “I know where all the best knitting stores are in the area.  I even have a group, you’re more than welcome to join.”

“I don’t…”  Laura sighed.  “Someone is going to be talking about baby things or knitting baby things and I just don’t…”

“Oh no, that’s all right.  I get it.  If you want I’ll go get some stuff to work on for you.  I don’t mind.”

“I don’t….anything I work on right now I’m never going to be able to see again.”

Spencer winced as another memory came up and swallowed him.

* * *

 

_“And now we have two placemats.”  Laura said._

_The only way to keep sane down here was to stay focused on the world inside, to make work and set schedules and routines and follow them until goals were achieved.  Spencer was finally writing his paper on how Dr. Fallon’s work might be applied to profiling, which was afternoon work.  Mornings were for exercise and tidying up the spaces, laundry, dishes, cleaning.  Afternoons were for writing and reading and in Laura’s case knitting, evenings were for movies and games together.  Now he was occupying the office space while she was in the chair with the best light.  “Placemats?”_

_“Well we did repurpose the tablecloth.  I don’t know; I don’t want to knit anything that I’m going to want to see again, so I don’t want good yarn or special patterns at all, but just knitting is a comfort.”_

_“Well, it’s repetitive motion, which can be conducive to meditation.  That has been proven to lower stress levels.”_

_“Exactly.  So right now it’s dishcloth cotton and placemats and…Spencer!”_

_The tone of her voice had changed, from casual, friendly chatter to shock and fear.  He spun around to look at her, and then followed her gaze to the door and the man standing there._

* * *

 

“Charity knitting?”  Garcia asked.  “Keep yourself sane, send them out into the world, and make other people feel better?”

“Know of any charities that need anything?”  Laura asked.  “Not baby related.”

“Of course.  Hey Rossi?”  He was coming out to check on them.  “Do you still work with that homeless veterans group?”

“When I can.”

“Do they need, like, hats to hand out for the winter?”

“All the time.”

Garcia turned back to Laura.  “There you go.  I know some simple watch cap patterns….”

“I like the sideways short-row, actually.  Nothing more complicated than garter stitch right now.  Maybe in acrylic…”

“No.  Friends do not let friends knit with acrylic, especially when they’re sad.  I’ll go get some super wash wool and some nice needles and whatever else you need.  Want to go pick colors?”

“Sure.”  Laura sighed, this time in relief.  “Thank you.” 

“Oh, you’re welcome sweetie.”

They adjourned to the kitchen.  Spencer watched them go before turning to Dave.  “Um, if you have time I could use some help with something.”

“Name it.”

“I need to talk to Mom, but I need to tell Dr. Norman what happened first, so he can prepare his staff to help her.”

“Are you going to tell her?”

“Actually I was going to write to her to tell her about Maggie but there’s a good chance that she’ll know something is wrong and figure it out anyway.  It’s better that I tell her than hide it, hiding things only fuels her paranoia.  But I don’t know that I can outright explain it to Dr. Norman….”

“I’ll call him and tell him while we set up the video link.”

Now it was Spencer’s turn to sigh in relief.  “Thank you.”

* * *

 

Not too long later Spencer sat down at Rossi’s computer and felt his heart break again at the face on the screen.  He’d dreamed of taking Maggie out to Vegas, of laying her in his mother’s arms, her first Grandchild.  Another dream that was lost in the hideous silence, “Hi Mom.”

“Spencer!”  Diana brightened so visibly when she saw him.  “You’re back.  Oh, I am so glad.  You’re in DC, at Dave’s house, right?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Just that.  Just that and she was frowning again.  “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”  He couldn’t tell her like this.  He had a long letter going already, pages of it, telling her everything about her grandchild, every amazing thing she’d done even though she’d only lived a day.  “I’m fine.”

“Spencer, don’t lie to your mother.”

“I am.  Well, I broke my thumb.”  He held up his cast.  “But it’s not that…big a deal.”

Diana considered him a long moment.  “No, it’s something else.”

“I, um, I met a girl.  Her name’s Laura, I think you’re really going to like her.”

She nodded.  “Good.  I always knew you’d find someone.  Going to marry her?”

“Yeah, actually.  In Vegas.  It turns out that her parents married at the same chapel where you and Dad got married.  If it’s still there we thought we’d go there too.  I, um, think we’re looking at March.”

“Wonderful, Spencer, that’s wonderful.  I’ll look forward to that.  Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

How?  How would he…. Oh, but she knew.  Ever since Gary Michaels she knew…. “You were right.”  He admitted finally.  “We are animals.”

“Oh.”  She understood; she always did.  In that moment her eyes filled with compassion and love.  “Oh sweetheart I am so sorry.”

“I am too.  I tried…”

“I know you did.  And I know you will again.”

“That is the plan.”

“Then I’ll look forward to that too.”

“I’m going to write.  Everything…”

“Good.  Good.  You do that sweetheart.  And you take care of yourself and that girl.  Is she there?”

“Yeah.  Yeah she is.”

“Well you tell her for me that if you think she’s special then she is special.  And I bet she’ll make a wonderful mother for my grandchildren.”

Oh.  Oh.  “I’ll tell her that Mom.  I think she’ll really like hearing that.”

“Good.”

Spencer heard a small, broken sound from the doorway.  Laura hadn’t been listening, but she’d walked in just in time.  Now she was standing there with tears running down her cheeks.  “I have to go Mom.”

“Yes, before someone starts listening in.  I love you son.”

“I love you too Mom.  Bye.”  He closed the link and ran to Laura’s side.  “Mom is… she’s…”

“I never thought anyone would ever say that.”  Laura got out between sobs.  “That’s the nicest thing anyone ever said about me.”  She curled back into his arms and started soaking his shirt for the fourth time that day.  “I think I love your mother.”

“Oh.”  Well that was all right.

 


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43**

How the hell, Hotch thought, do you select a casket for an infant?

He had learned the rules back when Emily had “died” in Boston, moving a body interstate required that it be embalmed, sealed in a casket, and transported by common carrier.  Right now Maggie, having been released by the coroner, was in the back being carefully tended to by the undertaker, which meant that he and JJ had to pick out her casket.  He could have asked Blake but, after everything, this had to be his duty.  Maybe it was something only another parent could know.  “You know, just having choices is disturbing.”  JJ said.

“I know.”

“We don’t have any clothes for her.”

“They’re going to put her in a white dress and wrap her in the blanket Laura made for her.”

“That works.”  JJ looked at the closest one.  “This is a plastic trunk.  Reid would not go for a plastic trunk.”

“Or a plain pine box.”  Hotch replied, looking at the nearest one, “Even if the monks who handcrafted it do consider it a cradle to take a child to a better place.”

“Don’t go there, remember what Garcia said.”  JJ looked at the next one.  “And I can’t see him going for the all over pink chiffon ruffles either.”

“Or the gold angels on white, bearing her off to her heavenly rest.”  Hotch looked at the next one in line.  “This one,” he said.  It was a classic Victorian style, dark wood, more than a little old-fashioned, communicating dignity and gravitas. 

JJ came over and looked.  “Yeah.  That’s it.  He’s go for that one.”

“It’s missing something though.”

“What?”

“Stay here.  I’ll be back.”

It didn’t take long.  Within the hour Hotch was knocking on the funeral director’s door.  “Would you put this in there with her, please?”  He said, handing over the smallest teddy bear he could find.  “It’s from her extended family.”

* * *

 

That evening Dave, now knowing Laura and Spencer’s intentions, decided to make soup.  Something in a hearty Tuscan bean, he decided, with sausage and beans and carrots and lots of kale, which was just coming in.  He paired it with some crusty, whole grain bread from a bakery he was fond of, and mellow red wine for those who were drinking.  And for desert, “I hope you like cheesecake.”  He said as he got started.

Laura’s eyes sparkled, “Lemon cheesecake?”

“Nope, just the regular stuff.”

“Still, it sounds wonderful.  I have been craving lemon cheesecake for months.”

“Next time I’m keeping a shelf in the fridge just for that.”  Spencer told her.  “And I’m keeping it stocked.”

Dave had to smile himself at the look they exchanged.  Ah, that was love there.  With his own pang he remembered how Carolyn had turned carnivore on him.  She had not been able to get enough meat in her system.  She wasn’t anemic; they checked three times, she just wanted rare meat every single day.  He remembered all the late night burger runs, how it felt good to do something, anything, while she was bearing the burden.  He made a mental note to find a bakery that carried lemon cheesecakes so he could tell Spencer when the time came.

“Sure I can’t help?”  Laura asked.

“Next week, bella.  This week you rest.”   Dave told her.  She had ensconced herself in the comfortable wing chair he kept for when he had female guests over to watch him cook, among other things.  It was a cozy corner of the kitchen, with room for the basket she had borrowed to hold the yarn Garcia was bringing her.  And it gave Munchie company, there was a rug there where he could lay at her feet and be out of the way of the work.  While the sadness still wrapped Laura and Spencer in matching shrouds there was a sense that they were settled into the process now, working through it in a healthy sort of way, and no longer alone, which was what mattered.  “Although I might make your husband and Morgan do the dishes.  Stop,” he said when Spencer went to protest.  “I know you don’t have the paperwork, but it’s the only thing that’s missing, you don’t have to be a profiler to tell.”  They both turned red so nicely too.

“Actually I was going to say that you probably don’t want me handling anything breakable.”  Spencer raised his cast in reminder.

“Good point.  We’ll make Morgan do all the work.  We’ll go over the files.”  Dave was also getting a sense that Spencer, under all the grief, was bored.  Not with Laura’s company, but for such a nimble mind the work they did was an endless series of puzzles and conundrums, just waiting to be figured out, and Spencer missed the intellectual stimulation.  Not that he was anywhere close to actually going back to work; a quiet discussion earlier in the day had cleared that up.  He wouldn’t be comfortable even going back into the office until Laura was able to go out on her own and more familiar with the area, wouldn’t go out into the field until she had a place to live.  That said there was a backlog of files that he’d be willing to help clear after the funeral if he could do them at home   But Spencer was bored so Morgan had gone for some files, some consults to look over after dinner.

Not too much time later Morgan arrived with a file box.  Garcia, with shopping bags in hand, was right on his heels.  “Cascade superwash,” she said.  “And Lantern Moon needles because you really deserve the best, and some notions although I know you’re going to get more.”

“More?”  Spencer asked.

“Oh yeah.  Remember that discussion we had about shoes?”

“Shoes?”  All of a sudden Spencer turned a little green around the gills.  He turned to Laura.  “How many pairs of shoes did you own?”

“Seven, if you count my snow boots.”  She replied as she happily prowled through the bag.  “I was considering making it eight when I was taken.  If you include these,” She indicated the plain, white sneakers on her feet, “probably nine at most.”

“Okay, that’s not natural.”  Morgan said.

“No, see, when you’re a knitter or a sewer or a crafter that instinct gets shifted to yarn and fabric and tools.”  Garcia told them.  She looked over at Laura.  “How much stash did you have?”  Laura got a faraway look as she tried to quantify.  “See.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry love.”  Laura said to Spencer.  “You’re just going to have to get used to stash.  And project bags.  And notions, and…”  Spencer looked to Morgan for help but only got laughter in reply.

Just then there was a knock on the door.  Morgan went to answer it, took one look, and tried to step out of the way.  He wasn’t successful and a pile of bags was thrust into his arms.  “Where’s my girl?”  Tonya asked.  A moment later the two friends were reuniting in the corner of Dave’s kitchen.  “There you are.”  Tonya cooed as she hugged Laura tight.  “I knew it; I knew you’d be back.  The quiet ones are always the strongest, always.”

After a prolonged hug Laura stepped back.  “I…I…”

“Shhh.  Derek told me what happened.  I bet she was as pretty as her Momma.”  With that Laura burst into tears again and the hug resumed. 

Dave left a glass of water nearby, given that Laura had been crying off and on since they landed yesterday dehydration was a vague concern.  “I’m Dave Rossi.”  He said over Laura’s shoulder, “Staying for dinner?”

“Tonya Wilson.  Sure.  You’re going to have trouble getting rid of me tonight.”

“That’s all right, I don’t mind.”  Dave turned and caught sight of the look on Morgan’s face.  Well hello.  “Don’t mind at all.”


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44**

While Tonya and Laura moved to the family room the BAU family gathered around the stove.  “So I did a thing while I was out.”  Garcia said.  “I hope I didn’t overstep or anything.”

“It’s probably fine.”  Spencer told her.  “What is it?”

“Got Laura an appointment with a doctor, specifically a midwife, over at GW.  It’s the same program JJ used and she really loved it and they have a midwife who specifically works with parents with psychological or emotional issues around childbirth and she is really hyped about helping you guys.  She said the timing is exactly right for the standard post-natal appointment, and if all is well then medically you can take it from there.”

“Oh.  No, that’s…that’s great, that’s really helpful.  Thank you.”

“It’s a week from tomorrow, which she said ought to be soon enough unless she’s having problems, pain or bleeding or running a fever…”

“No, she’s been fine.”

“And they have a separate waiting room and I got the first appointment on Black Friday, so you shouldn’t have to deal with any triggers or anything.”

“That’s great.  Perfect.”

She took a deep breath.  “She needs to see the coroner’s report though.”  Garcia said with a wince.

Spencer felt something inside him still as the pain welled back up.  Two steps forward, one step back.  “I assume to see if Maggie was healthy.”

“Yeah.  There’s no other way…”

“No, that’s fine.”

Sure.”

“Yeah.”  He stood there blinking for a long moment.  “Is it really strange that I’m glad there’s a report?”

“No.”  Dave said, calmly stirring the soup.  “It’s one more tether, one more thing that won’t let her be forgotten.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Spencer nodded.  “I want to see the file.”

“Reid…”  Morgan warned. 

“No, I need to know.  Laura…I don’t think Laura does, but I do.”

Without a word Garcia handed him her tablet.  He started paging through it quickly as they watched.

* * *

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”  Tonya asked.

She and Laura had settled on the sofa in the family room, surrounded by the bags Tonya had brought.  Now Laura settled back and thought; did she want to talk about it? The whole thing had this rare, set apart, perfect quality.  It was something she and Spencer had shared, no one else.  Maggie was somehow theirs alone to know, at least for now.  Was she ready to truly let others in?  “Um, I don’t know?  Not yet?”

“That’s okay, but if you need someone to listen I’m on the other end of that phone.  At least I will be after Thanksgiving; I’m in town until then spending it with my sister.”

“Oh, I can’t even think about that.  The funeral is between now and then, I think; I can barely get it together to get that far.  We’re supposed to go get interviewed at the FBI tomorrow and then I’m just going to hide for the week-end I think.”

“If you need help with the funeral…”

“Dave’s handling it.  Spencer and his father are estranged, Dave is kinda….”

“Grandpa.  Got it.  I’ll ask him.”  Tonya sighed.  “So I finally got to meet Karen.”

“Oh, I am so sorry.”  That was Laura’s standard reaction.

“No, no, not your fault.  You were right though, that woman is seriously not right.  She cleaned you out, we just couldn’t stop her.”

“Oh, don’t worry.  It was just stuff, things.  I’ll deal with it when I can think more than five minutes ahead.”

“We did manage to save a few things though, stuff that wasn’t in your room. I brought your sweater, a pair of shoes, some stuff from the kitchen…”

“Thank you.”

“…and this.”  She pulled a bundled of knitted something out of the bag.  Shaken out it became a shawl, a series of overlapping fans, each in a different, delicate color.  Tonya held it up so Laura could see all of it.

“Oh!  It’s beautiful.”  Laura touched it gently.  “Koigu, has to be.  Who…?’

“Hickory.  She went around to all your friends and had them pick a color.  At the shop, the house, on campus, even out where your friend Martha was living, they each got one.  That one’s mine.”  She pointed to a particularly bright orange before she carefully draped it around Laura’s shoulders.  “There.  That’s the hug they all sent.”

“Ohhh.”  Laura pulled it around her shoulders, feeling the warmth and the love woven in every stitch.  “I didn’t…oh. I can’t stop crying.”  She said as her cheeks grew damp again.

“That’s all right.”  Tonya said.  “You have to be alive to cry.”

* * *

 

“That’s not exactly how it ended.”  Spencer said when he finally pushed the tablet away.

“Oh?”  Dave asked.

“We knew he wasn’t going to kill _us_.  We…we couldn’t risk him killing any more of our children.”  Spencer sighed as he looked into the past.  “But they were right; I didn’t mean to…I just…lost control.  I don’t even remember.”

“Same reason Hotch lost control.”  Morgan pointed out.  “Some things are just too far.”

“And sometimes it’s better not to remember.”  Dave pointed out.  “Given everything that happened it would make sense that you were afraid for your life and for the other victim, that’s why you felt you had to escape.  Erin would understand that.”

“Right.  I understand.”  A convenient lie, but at least this one wasn’t to everyone.  Where was Laura anyway?  He slipped off then stool and went looking for her.

Morgan, perhaps picking up on something, followed.  “You okay?”

Spencer turned to him.  “You asked what you could do to help?”  Morgan nodded.  “I can’t risk ... I can’t let that happen again.  I just can’t.  But I can’t not have them either, I just…”  Oh hell, what was he trying to say?  All of a sudden he felt so lost…

But Morgan understood somehow.  “Don’t worry, I got your back.”

That was what he needed to hear.  “Thank you.”  Why were his cheeks wet again?  Because the children not even conceived but already so loved were that much safer?  “Thank you.”

* * *

 

Later, after an entirely satisfactory dinner, while Morgan and Tonya were doing dishes, Spencer found Laura sitting out on the back porch swing.  “What are you thinking?”  He asked as he sat down.

“I’m just looking at the stars.”  She replied, “And dreading the funeral.”

“I thought you wanted to say good-bye?”

“I do, I do.  But there are going to be flowers, you know there will be flowers.  She never got to see any flowers.  Or the moon, or the sun, or the stars…”

Spencer put his arm around her shoulders so she could rest against him.  “I think she can see the stars.  I think she’s with the stars.”

“Oh?”

“Something JJ and Will used to read to Henry before bed:

_Once there was a baby star._

_She lived up near the sun._

_And every night at bedtime that baby star wanted to have some fun._

_She would shine and shine, fall and shoot and twinkle oh so bright._

_She said “Mommy, I’ll run away if you make me say goodnight.”_

_And then her mommy kissed her sparkly nose and said,_

_“No matter where you go, no matter where you are._

_No matter how big you grow and even if you stray far._

_I’ll love you forever, because you’ll always be my baby star.”_

“She’s strayed about as far as she can. I guess.”  Laura said.

“But she’ll always be our baby star.”  He replied.  “That’s how I’ll remember her, whenever I see the stars.”

“I just wish she could have seen them.  She could have seen how beautiful the world is.”

“I think she knew.  She felt it the moment you wrapped that blanket you made around her, and she felt how warm and soft love can be.  That’s the most beautiful thing of all, isn’t it?”

She smiled as she settled against him, “Yeah. It is.”

* * *

 

Unseen behind then Garcia quietly crept away.  “Okay, I need everyone’s help.”  She said when she got back to the kitchen and dried her eyes.  “I have an idea.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Baby Star story is copyright someone on the Criminal Minds crew, I assume writer Virgil Williams, and was featured in Episode 07x07 "There's No Place Like Home".


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45**

The question was coffee.

Spencer stood in the BAU the next morning, his first time here in a good ten months now.  He had missed this place, this feeling of being well and truly deep in a citadel of safety.  Now he was debating coffee before his debriefing.  Given his memory his was going to be the more in depth interview, Laura was still too fragile to interview too intensely.  Now, did he want coffee?

As he debated himself he heard familiar voices over by the pot.  “Is it true?”  Kevin asked.

“Is what true?”  Garcia answered.

“Did Dr. Reid make a baby?”

“Yeah, and then the Unsub killed her so you’d better be really really kind and gentle or else.”

“Of course,” Kevin was quiet a moment, then.  “Have you ever pictured it?”

“Pictured what?”

“Dr. Reid with a woman.”

“What!?”

“Which is not to say I think he’s gay, it’s just…oh, come on, everyone figured he was more like Spock or something, completely asexual….”

* * *

 

_“So what does that mean?”  Spencer asked, pointing to her bracelet.  “Assuming it has meaning.”_

_They were curled up in the bed, trying really hard to actually find a point of mutual sexual arousal.  Approximately an hour before the Unsub had come down and told them to start breeding.  Those were his literal words, breed.  Get with the humping.  Make him a boy.  Breed.  Now.  Just like they were animals, nothing more._

_And then he threatened to turn off the water if they didn’t comply by dawn._

_He knew the protocol in situations like this.  Pacify the Unsub, do what he wants so long as no one’s life is at risk, try to talk him out of action only if you’re sure of the profile, and wait for the team to come after you.  Having sex with a woman he found both charming and physically attractive should not be all that onerous a demand assuming he could gain her consent. And he had, it had only taken a few moments of discussion over how close the team might be to finding them for her to realize that they needed to do what needed doing to get more time._

_Unfortunately when the Unsub chose his victims he did not take **orientation** into account._

_It wasn’t that he was gay, if pressed he’d say that if you had to go straight to the genitalia he’d only ever fantasized about women.  But in truth other than a certain aesthetic pleasure (Lila in her bikini came to mind) he didn’t go straight to genitalia when it came to sexual arousal.  If pressed and allowed to answer outside of the narrow gay/straight/bi range he’d whole-heartedly admit to being sapiosexual.  He was drawn by intelligence, sparkling wit and deep conversation.  He found people bursting with ideas and knowledge and curiosity about the world attractive as hell.  This was why he’d never felt any pressing need to actually meet Maeve, their correspondence and phone calls really had satisfied him.  But then so had the late night discussions he used to have with Ethan all the time.  If truly and deeply pressed he’d probably count both as past relationships._

_Of course no one ever pressed because everyone thought he was asexual.  He’d even overheard discussions about it around the office on more than one occasion (Kevin was the worst gossip).  Truth was he was not asexual.  After much discussion with Maeve and some research he’d come to the conclusion that he was demisexual, someone who only became sexually interested after a relationship was solidly in place.  He simply could not pull off a one night stand.  It wasn’t a choice to remain chaste or pure; the plumbing simply would not work.  That was why he’d pushed Lila away, he didn’t want to be embarrassed or make her feel ashamed somehow because he wasn’t physically responding to her advances, like he had with JJ after she’d had two beers at the baseball game._

_And here he was with a woman he’d known all of two weeks.  Attractive as hell to be sure, bright, intelligent, deeply interested in her field and in all related disciplines, well-read, opinionated but with the facts to back it up, he could talk to her intently for hours.  He **had** been talking to her for hours, in the two weeks they’d been stuck down here with only each other for company he had yet to be anywhere close to bored.  But still, two weeks.  And now their life depended on his plumbing.  And worse, on hers.  _

_Now they were curled up in the bed together, closer than they had ever been with anyone, well into each other’s personal space, trying to find something, anything, to get the fire going.  “Oh, it’s silly.”  She said, lifting her wrist up to get a good look at the thing.  It appeared to be a kind of chainmail, links of black, white and grey.  But the move pressed her closer to him; he could feel the warmth of her now, her solid presence.  “Campus fad.”_

_“Okay, but what does it mean?”_

_“There was this woman who opened a kiosk in front of the bookstore.  You know the kind, right?’  He nodded, transient sellers of small bits of jewelry or t-shirts or other gift items would routinely set up on college campuses, sometimes for a few weeks before moving on.  “Well, she was selling chainmail jewelry.  Some of the religious groups on campus decided to all buy white bracelets to show that they were choosing to stay pure until marriage, because this needed to be shared with everyone for some reason.”_

_“Of course.”  Colleges and socio-political posturing went hand in hand.  “That’s not white.”_

_“No, it’s not.  People started wearing black if you were off-limits, married or committed and red if you were open to anything, but that didn’t last long.  She was, of course, also selling rainbow pride bracelets, which also became popular, and then the ones who bought white bracelets started buying pink or blue bracelets to show straight-pride, their term, and then she started selling the pink/purple/turquoise combination for transgender people…”_

_“…and all of a sudden you had to wear your sexuality on your wrist or people would look at you funny.”_

_“…so said my housemate.  And given that it applies to this situation…”  She held up her wrist again.  “Asexuality, in all its various shades.  14,000 undergraduates, 7,000 graduate students and 1,600 faculty members and she sold exactly three of them.”_

_Damn.  She might be kinda perfect.  If only there wasn’t an Unsub in the way.  “Oh, hey, I should get one of those.”_

_Of course she got it right off.  “Great.”  She rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling.  “We’re gonna die down here.”_

* * *

 

Garcia dismissed Kevin in that way that only she could and came around the corner to find Spencer woolgathering.  “Did you hear that?”

“Well, I…”

“Okay, so Kevin is clearly full of crap.”

“Clearly.”  He was not asexual.  He just needed someone highly intelligent who shared his beliefs about home and family and approximately 340 hours of physical proximity to get to know them intimately.  If you took into account the usual two dates per week of an average of six hours per date that meant that from meeting someone to bedding them would take him about seven months, or roughly two weeks of forced 24/7 contact.  Given those conditions his plumbing worked just fine, and as it turned out she was also demisexual and hers worked as well, with a little coaxing.  That was the night they’d made Maggie.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m trying to decide if I need caffeine to go up against Strauss.”

She tugged him toward the pot.  “Take every advantage you can.”


	46. Chapter 46

**Chapter 46**

God, he was tired.

Spencer stepped out of the conference room, worn to the bone from all the questioning.  But it was out now, the entire story, from the time he went missing to the moment Morgan stormed Rudger’s door.  Only the inference that Rudger might have been considering killing them, after what happened to Maggie, had been the slightest bit untrue.  Only the intimate details had been glossed over.  He had no reason to hide anything else.

Of course his friends were waiting.  “What did they say?”  Morgan asked.

“Reinstatement pending psychiatric evaluation, which is fair, I did lose control.”  He had lost control.  Regardless of whether he was escaping because he thought Rudger was going to kill them or because he would not risk Rudger killing his next child, and there _had_ to be another child, the truth was that he had not meant to kill Rudger.  But when he’d had Rudger on the ground his heart and mind had been filled with the overwhelming silence of that terrified cry being cut off like throwing a switch and he had simply lost control.  He’d never thought himself capable, but now he knew, harm his children and he might very well kill.

And they all understood.  Don’t threaten their children.  They’d learned that from George Foyet and Hotch, from what would have happened to Izzy Rodgers if Rossi hadn’t stopped JJ.   Never threaten the children. “God willing that situation won’t come up again.”  Rossi said.

“Amen.”  Morgan replied.

Spencer nodded his agreement.  “I told them my goal was to return to the field soon after the first of the year.”  It was almost the last week of November, hopefully that would be enough time to get Laura settled somehow.  And they were already planning on therapy twice a week, to help heal.  “But they said to take more if I needed it.”

“What’s that?”  Morgan asked, “Five or six weeks?”

“About that.”

“We can work with that, see how it’s going when we get there.”

“Dave.”  Strauss said quietly from the doorway.

Spencer and Morgan politely stepped away, but they still caught the conversation.  “You should know, Dr. Patterson was questioned to be certain that everything that happened was consensual.” 

“Erin.”  Dave’s voice was loaded with disappointment.  “You are not serious.”

“I know.  The order came from above my pay grade.”

“But why?  We’ve had agents kidnapped with civilians before.”

“Yes, but none have come back with a baby before or intending to marry the agent before.  She went on record saying that she understood the situation and consented.”

By now Morgan was muttering.  “This is ridiculous.”  He said.

“It’s all right.”  Spencer told him.  “We expected that line of questioning.  It’s not a concern.”

* * *

 

_They were not going to die that night._

_They talked for what seemed like hours, about all the deeper, more intimate subjects that courtesy had not allowed them to speak on before, his mother, her step-mother, Hankel on his part, a time of self-harm on hers that she’d never discussed with anyone before, Maeve, Martha, Emily’s death, the unfounded accusations of shoplifting and identity theft from her family.  All things that should have come out gradually over a period of months of getting to know each other, but they no longer had the gift of time.  Finally Laura rested her hand on her upturned arm and looked at him.  “You know,” she said, “this would probably have happened anyway.”_

_“Really?”  Spencer asked.  Was she serious?’_

_“Uh-huh.  You really are attractive, you know.”_

_Oh.  “Yeah, right.  I’m a walking string bean; a pale walking string bean.  And a former addict with one dead girlfriend already and a job that lends itself to being kidnapped or held hostage.  I’m not exactly the best catch here.”_

_“Stop.”  She pressed her finger to his lips to silence him.  “Not only are you the most intelligent man I’ve ever met but also one of the most courageous.  You could probably do anything but you chose to risk a lot to help others.  And after living with you for two weeks I can safely say that you are both a gentleman and a very gentle man.  Given all that looks and history don’t matter.”_

_“Thanks.”  He said quietly, both flattered and touched.  “I can return those compliments, you know.”_

_“Not the brave part.”_

_“Uh-uh.  It takes a lot of bravery to challenge the status quo to stand up for something you believe in.”_

_“Thank you.”  She blushed nicely.  “So yeah, this would have happened, given enough time.”_

_“Good to know.”_

_With that she crossed her fingers where he could see, leaned over and kissed him._

_It was a small kiss, tentative and shy compared to the two he’d received before.  But that made it better somehow, more intimate, more real.  When it ended he rolled over and placed his mug of tea on the nightstand, then rolled back and cupped her head in his hand, threading his long fingers gently through her hair.  “Yes?”  He asked._

_“Yes.”  She replied._

* * *

 

“Where is Laura?’  Spencer asked.

“Waiting in Rossi’s office,” Morgan replied. 

They headed that way, only to be met by JJ and Alex finally coming home.  “Spence,” JJ said, moving to hug him at last.  “Oh, I am so sorry.”

“Thank you.”  She’d been crying, he could tell, probably for days on end.  He honestly hadn’t expected that of her, although now he couldn’t say why.

“No, I mean I’m sorry.”  JJ said.  “I’m sorry for lying and I’m sorry for treating you like crap and I’m sorry we didn’t trust you.  It wasn’t right or fair and now all this has happened and I’m just…”

Oh.  “JJ, it’s okay.”  He hugged her again.  “I forgive you.”

It was Alex’s turn next, always quiet, always calm Alex.  “Hotch is with her.”  She told him, laying a hand gently on his shoulder.  “They’re going to the funeral home.”

“I need your help.”  Dave said to her, “Arranging for the services.”

“Anything,” Alex replied. 

They moved away.  Spencer took JJ’s hand and led her up to Dave’s office, where Laura was sitting on his sofa, knitting herself to calmness while Garcia kept her company.  “You two haven’t had a chance to really meet.  JJ, this is Dr. Laura Patterson, Laura, this is….”

“…Henry’s mom.”  Laura stood with a smile.  “I remember.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”  JJ said.  “She’s so beautiful…”  And then they were hugging and everyone was crying again.

Spencer looked over at Morgan.  “It’s just not going to stop until after the funeral, is it?”  Not that he was certain he wanted it to.

Morgan handed him a fresh box of tissues.  “No.”

“Right.”


	47. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47**

They went back to Dave’s that night with one question foremost in their minds; who was coming for dinner.

The problem was that Henry, now six, and Jack, now nine, wanted to come by and see him.  They had been understandably upset by their parents being concerned for so long and wanted to know that everything was all right now.  The question was how would he react around them, with the grief still so fresh?  How would Laura react?  “I think it’ll be okay.”  She said.

“You sure?” He asked.

“Not a hundred percent, no.  But they’re older and they’re boys, it’s not the same.”  She sighed and shuddered a little.  “I don’t think I could handle having a baby around right now though.”

“I understand.” 

“Besides, you need to make up missing his birthday.  Granted I admit, I’m kind of glad we weren’t there for it.”

“You would have stayed home.”  Maggie had been gone, dead, for three days on Henry’s last birthday.  Laura had spent the day mostly in bed, utterly miserable.  Not just from the emotional pain, although that had been nearly overwhelming in and of itself, but also from the physical realities of trying to recover from pregnancy without an infant to nurse.   “We would have done more.”

“I know.”   She sighed and looked off into some distant place he couldn’t see.  “It’s not going to be like that next time, is it?”

“Absolutely not.”  He had some vague picture of how it ought to be, a room with lots of windows and fresh air and sun, a bed or a big chair and ottoman with lots of pillows, water and tea at her elbow, any other creature comfort she desired, a doctor on call if needed, and of course a healthy, happy baby contentedly slurping away.  “I promised.”

“I know.”  She managed a small smile and stepped into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist.  “Waiting’s hard.”

“I know.”  He put his arms around her and held her tight, feeling the bindings she still wore under her shirt.  “I think it’ll be easier once we start working toward it.”

“Yeah, but it’s not right to do that until Maggie’s where she needs to be.  That wouldn’t be fair.”

“No, it wouldn’t.”

She held on for a long few moments.  “I’m okay.”  She said at last.  “Let’s go meet your godson.”

* * *

 

“Hey son,” Will said as they got out of the car.  “Remember when we talked about Spencer?”

Henry nodded solemnly.  “The bad men took him.”  He said.  “I wish he’d come home.”  In reply his father smiled and turned him around to see the man standing on Dave’s front porch.  Henry took a big, deep breath and lit up like the sun.  “Spencer!”  Then he was off like a rocket, straight into his Godfather’s arms.  “You’re home!  You’re home!  You’re home!”

Spencer managed to swing his godson off his feet and into a big hug before he had to put him down.  “I’m home.”  He said.  “Oh, I missed you!”

Henry landed on his feet and looked up at him with big eyes.  “Did you get hurt by the bad men?”

Spencer held up his cast, “Broke my thumb.  That’s all.”  Henry gazed at the bright purple cast and then nodded, as if he considered this acceptable.  “Let’s get inside and get you out of that coat, okay?  You’re a lot bigger than I remember.”

“Two inches,” Henry told him.

“Wow.”  Once inside Spencer helped Henry out of his outdoor things while Will and JJ headed in.  “Do you remember that picture you drew for me one time, when I said I wanted a boy just like you?”

Henry nodded.  “Katie said you put it in a frame.”

“I did.”

“And Momma said it got drowned in your house while you were gone.”

“Yeah, that’s what she said.”

“I’ll draw you another one.”

“Oh, I’d like that.  But I have to tell you something.”  Spencer crouched down to eye level.  “Remember how you said to go ask the boy’s Momma and I told you I hadn’t found her yet?”  Henry nodded.  “Well while I was gone I found her.”  His Godson’s eyes got wide.  “Want to meet her?”

“Yeah!”

Spencer walked him over to where Laura was meeting Will.  “Laura, this is Henry.  Henry, this is Laura.”

“Hello Henry.”

Henry looked up at her.  “Are you going to be the Momma?”

“That is the plan.”

“Good!”  With that Henry threw his arms around her in a big hug.  “I’m going to go draw that picture!”

“Okay.”  Henry took off for the family room, where the toys and coloring things were waiting.  Laura looked back at Will and JJ.  “Okay, he’s adorable.”

“Thanks.”  JJ said with some laughter.

Not long after Morgan arrived.  “What, no Tonya?”

“She’s coming.”  Laura told him.  “She called a little bit ago.”

“She’s not staying here?’

“No, she has family in the area.  She’s staying with her sister for the week.”

“Oh.”

And not long after that Hotch arrived with Jack.  Jack was duly introduced to Laura, as was Hotch, formally this time.  “She’s safe.”  He said.  “I’d say you can go see her but they’re closed…”

“I’m not even sure when the funeral is.”  Spencer admitted.

“Monday,” Dave said.  “My friend Jim Davison agreed to perform the service.”

“I think I remember him from the Silvano case.” 

“He’s a good guy, he’ll do it right.”

“And we were able to reserve Dahlgren Chapel.”  Alex said. 

“On campus?”  Spencer blinked at her.  “I though they only offered that to dignitaries, or…”

“Well she is the daughter of a member of the faculty.”  Alex came over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.  “They offered out of respect for you.  You matter you know.”

“Oh.”  This was entirely unexpected.  He’d expected some simple thing in a funeral home, led by the undertaker.  Not all this.  But for Maggie…

A little while later, after Tonya arrived, Hotch pulled him aside.  “There’s something you should know.  The judge is offering Harris bail.  He’s already taken his passport, but with his funding and connections…”

“That won’t matter.”  Spencer sighed.  “I don’t think he’ll come after us, he never got involved in that end at all.”

“Keep your eyes open, just in case.”  Now it was Hotch’s turn to sigh. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened with Emily.”  He said.

“Hotch…”

“Honestly… given the situation, that we knew next to nothing about Doyle’s network and that she was that badly injured, I still would have hidden her like we did.  I don’t think the Marshalls had any idea what they were dealing with, they proved that with Foyet.  And given that I don’t have the clearance to know your clearance I still wouldn’t have said anything.”

“Hotch…” 

“But I should have insisted on a real grief counselor.  Deciding to do it myself was pure hubris and it made a bad situation worse, and I am sorry.”

Oh.  Spencer sighed.  “It’s all right.  I understand.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help…”

Spencer looked over at Laura, still not allowed to help by virtue of Dave insisting that she rest.  Not again.  He could not put her through that again.  “I don’t know.”  He said.  They had to get it right this time, it had to be done and it had to be done right.  But what exactly that meant.  “Let me get back to you after Monday?”

“Sure.”

A few moments later Henry ran up.  “Here,” he said, showing the picture.

“Oh!”  Spencer crouched down to have a look.  “Oh, that’s a good one.  Who’s that?”  He asked, pointing to the tallest, even though the bag gave it away.”

“That’s you!”

“And who’s that?”  This was a smaller figure with a skirt and fire engine red hair.

“That’s Laura.  And that’s a boy and that’s a girl.”

“A boy and a girl, huh?  That’s quite a family.  What’s that?”  He pointed to something vaguely bee shaped in the corner.

“That’s a guardian angel.”

Oh crap.  Spencer felt his eyes starting to mist over.  “Is it?  Well, it’s always good to have one of those around.  This is definitely frame worthy, thank you.”  Henry was all grins as he scampered off.

A few minutes later every head but Dave’s turned at an unexpected knock at the door.  But the person there didn’t wait to be let in.  “Tell me I didn’t miss the food.”  Emily Prentiss said as she walked through the door to hails of greeting.

“Emily!”  If Spencer had ever had a big sister this was it.  He went over to give her a big hug hello.  “How did you get here?”

“By airplane.  Really, 187 IQ.”  She teased gently as she hugged him.  “I wasn’t going to miss the funeral.  Oh, I am so sorry…”

“Thank you.  I’m…I’m glad you came.”

“Yeah, well, next time I come over it better be for something happy, like your wedding.  I expect an invitation.”

Spencer nodded.  “It’s going to be in Vegas.” He told her.

“Oh.  Oh god, I remember that hangover.”  And they all had to laugh at her.

Slowly, over the course of the evening, they all settled in for a causal, Italian dinner.  Spencer looked at them all as the table was set and food brought over.  He’d seen just enough of the unexplainable over the years to make him wonder about guardian angels, and if one could whisper a hint about a brother and sister yet to come in a young artist’s ear.  Family, he thought, even the ones we can only sense and not see.  I have a family again, Laura has a family now.  And it’s wonderful.

 


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48**

Spencer and Laura spent the week-end at Dave’s house, resting and quietly visiting with friends.  At one point Diana called and she and Laura talked for a while, a talk that left Laura in tears again but in the end Mother- and Daughter-in-law forged a bond that would last.  At one point Spencer and Morgan went out for a suit, which he was going to have to wear pinned to his sling, and Tonya went out for a dress and boots for Laura while Garcia brought home more yarn.  She was making hats at a prodigious rate, which was helping her manage the overwhelming emotions while making a number of homeless vets just a little warmer. 

Now it was Monday and snow had covered the world with a blanket of pure white.  Spencer stood quietly while Laura pinned his coat.  “Is that the blanket Martha made?”

“Yes.  JJ said that Maggie has the blanket I made her with her, so I’m keeping this one to remember them both.”  She picked up the soft, ivory cloth.  “Martha and I dreamed so many dreams of her back then.  Is it horribly selfish to be glad she’s there for her now?”

“I don’t think so.”  He gently caressed her cheek.  I miss you, he thought.  “Are you okay?  You haven’t been talking much lately.”

“I just…I need to get through this.  Say good bye.  Maybe tomorrow we can … go somewhere and … talk…or something.”

“Okay.”

Downstairs then, and to the car and some vague thought of how all this was put together.  Dave and Garcia had done it all for them, all they had to do now was go along for the ride.  Dave was there, making everything go smoothly and Laura sat next to him while she hugged that blanket close. 

Thankfully it was not too quiet.

First stop was the funeral home.  It was quiet, he noticed, and dignified, as it had been for Haley, and then for Emily.  “We decided not to do an open viewing.”  Dave said.  “It didn’t seem appropriate.  I’ll wait here.” 

Then the funeral director ushered them into a small room, and there she was.

“Oh, hi!”  Laura said softly, the tears back in her voice.

Maggie looked so perfect, just like she had when he’d left her in Laura’s arms to face the Unsub.  She had her mother’s nose and his chin and fine, red curls.  But those little fingers weren’t moving; they had never stopped in life, now they were still.  And he couldn’t hear her breathing.  And she was too pale.  But none of that mattered because she was there.  He had to repress the desire to cuddle her back into his arms.  “Hi Maggie,” he said, settling in close.  She looked just like they had put her down for a nap, right down to the little teddy bear.

“Hello sweetheart.”  Laura said in that same quiet voice full of love that she had used in life.  “There you are.  Oh we’ve missed you so.”  She reached out and gently caressed that tiny hand.  “You’re really not in there anymore, are you?”

“No, she’s not.”  He said just as quietly.  “You can tell.  But she’s here.”  He couldn’t explain it, he could just feel it.  Like she’d been around them this entire time, but now it was strongest.

“Yeah, she is.  Oh we had such plans for you.”  Laura said.  “We were going to take you up to see the sun, and the sky and the stars.  Take you home, introduce you to all your family, I don’t think they would have ever put you down.”

“Maybe a nice house,” Spencer said, “With a back yard and maybe a kitten if you wanted.  And your Mom would have cooked for you and made you dresses and knit you socks.”

“And your Dad and I would have shown you the world, the sea and the mountains and the desert.  Taught you to ride horses and drive a car, maybe a motorcycle.  And you would have gone to Cornell or Caltech or…well, Georgetown if you were extra smart like your dad and went to college young.  And when the time came he would have walked you down the aisle.”  By now she was openly crying.  “Oh, you would have had a wonderful life, sweetheart.”

It was all right, he thought, he was crying too.  “I know it’s probably scary, sweetheart, but I remember when I was where you are right now.  I remember there was a warm light nearby that felt like it was really safe.  That’s where you need to go love, your Grandma Julia and your…your Grandma Carolyn are there waiting for you, and her son James and Uncle Daniel…”

“…And Aunt Haley and Grandma Martha and….and Aunt Maeve.  They’re all there for you sweetheart.”  Laura smiled.  “You won’t be alone.  They’ll look after you until we get there, I promise.  But we have to stay here for now, so we can look after your brother and sister when they come.”  She smiled.  “We’ll never forget you, we promise that too.  Your Dad never forgets anything, he certainly won’t forget you.  Oh, we love you so much.”

“We love you.”  He echoed.  “You need to go sweetheart, it’s time.  We’ll be all right, it’s time to go.  Love you.”  At that moment Spencer swore he felt a draft, or the pressure in the room change, or something.  “Good-bye.”

“Good-bye.”  Laura said.  Then with a deep breath she turned to look at him.  “Did you just feel…?”

“Yeah.”  That was one thing he’d learned in his job, for every cannibal who worshiped Satan there was a mom who died to protect her son and for every priest who killed and hid behind diplomatic privilege there was a priest who tried to save a community and for every gunshot that hurt a friend there was one that should have been deflected by a glass door and wasn’t.  There were things his science could not explain and if it meant believing that his daughter’s spirit was safe in that warm light then he was willing to believe that he felt her slip away.

“Now what?”  Laura asked.

“Now we honor her memory and put what’s left safely to rest.”

After a few moments they went back to the other room to find Dave waiting.  “You two all right?”  He asked.

“Yeah,” Spencer replied.  He felt lighter, somehow, now that he’d had a chance to say good-bye.  He looked down at Laura, who looked up and smiled.  “I think we will be.”

“All right.  Let’s go on to the next part.”

* * *

 

The next part was the part they had been dreading.  Dahlgren Chapel was a palace out of a fairy tale under its blanket of newly fallen snow.  They walked quietly, sensing the students around them giving them a respectful space, feeling others falling in behind them.  But they didn’t see the rest of their family until they got to the chapel, the chapel they expected to see filled with the flowers Maggie had never seen in life.

It wasn’t.

There wasn’t a flower to be seen.

Instead the room was draped with blankets.

Blankets had been draped over chairs, over clothing racks, over perhaps every easel in the school.  There had to be dozens of them.  They looked around in wonder as everyone walked up to them, Garcia in the lead.  “Garcia…?”  Spencer asked.  “What was all this?”

“I overheard.”  She said.  “She’d never seen a flower; she wouldn’t know that they meant hope for a new life or anything.  So when people asked about flowers I told them to bring a blanket instead, because she knew that a warm blanket meant love.”

As Laura broke down crying again Spencer started at the variety around them.  There was one in the Georgetown colors, and one from Cornell and one from Caltech.  There was a blanket from a bed at the FBI academy, and one from the NSA and one from the CIA.  There was a quilt made by the Sterling House Quilters Guild, and one sent from the staff, and one sent from Bennington staff as well.  There was one from the place where Laura taught and one sent from the staff of a project she’d worked on and one from her old department and a bright pink one from her housemates.  There was a fancy one from the University club and a simple, surplus army blanket with a note from Eric saying that he passed the hat.  There was one with Winnie the Pooh from the IIU team and one with Paddington from Emily and her Interpol team.  There was one from each member of the BAU team, and one, surprisingly, from both his parents.  And there was one little one just marked _From JG_ which stunned him. 

Spencer just gaped at them all.

He never realized so many people _cared_.

“I figured the ones you didn’t want to keep we could give to Project Linus.”  Garcia said.  “Spread the love around to other babies who needed it.”

“Garcia, I…”  Oh Christ, now he was going to cry too.

But then he and Laura were being hugged, and somehow the chapel was getting very nearly full and somehow he realized that they would never be, had never been, alone.

She brought me her mother, he thought, and she brought me back to my family.  Thank you Maggie, you’re an amazing little girl.  I will always be proud of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of part 2


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 – Mercy
> 
> Shared pain is lessened. Shared joy is increased.  
> \- Spider Robinson

**Chapter 49**

The morning after the funeral Spencer woke early, as he had for months now.  But for the first time in weeks he realized that he had slept the night through.

It didn’t take a department shrink to tell him the meaning behind the nightmare he’d been having.  He’d been running from room to room, crime scene to crime scene, trying to find the baby that was wailing in terror.  And then, in some random scene, with a bleeding body at his feet, the crying would stop.  It would just stop and there would be this silence and he would know, he would know and he’d wake up calling for her.  Laura understood completely, she had the same dream, only in her case she was digging frantically through a pile of blankets and pillows on a bed.  But last night they’d both slept the night through.  Probably because she’s safe, he thought, her body is at rest and her spirit is in that warm light. 

This morning he finally felt like he could move on.  Never forget but he could think about other things now.

As he came out of the bathroom Laura sighed and shifted in the last of her sleep, and he was suddenly hit with a sense memory so hard it nearly knocked him over.

* * *

 

_Yes._

_So it was kiss and kiss again, coaxing, then deeper, letting him into taste, letting her taste in return.  “So what do we do?”  She asked between kisses._

_“I don’t know.”  He replied.  Biology was one thing, technique was something entirely different.  He kissed her again.  “We experiment.  See what works.  If it doesn’t then say so and we’ll try something else.”  He suddenly had an idea, something he’d wanted to try and that might solve a concern he had.  “I want to try something.”  He said, before nipping at her jaw and then the nerve under her ear._

_“Yes.”  She gasped out, before involuntarily writhing against him._

_OK, that nerve was a good spot for kisses.  He kissed there again, then tried biting gently, causing her to moan as she squirmed.  “Yes?”  It was a question; did she enjoy that as much as she let on?  In response she gave him a nipping bite of a kiss right on the same nerve and he felt every other nerve between there and his groin come flaming to life.  Yep, that was a good spot, right there._

_While they were doing that, and kissing over and over, she’d run her hands down his back and up under his t-shirt, gently caressing his skin in ways that made him seriously want her to move her hands to places where it would feel so much better.  “Off.”  She murmured now, tugging at the hem of it.  For a moment he was frightened, he still remembered high school and the football field, but he forced that memory away and let her draw the shirt over his head and toss it aside before pulling her back in and kissing her again.  “You’re warm.”  She murmured._

_“Is that a good thing?”  He asked._

_In reply she pulled her own shirt over her head._

_At that moment something Spencer had been curious about finally made its way to the front of his thought queue.  He’d never seen any bras around.  They never seemed to wander through the laundry, and he didn’t recall seeing any in the drawers or lying about the bedroom.  But only now did it key in that she wasn’t wearing one, it took him that moment to realize that there was a woman in his arms who was naked from the waist up, who’s breasts were small but nicely round, and who had pointed nipples that were pressing into his chest.  “A very good thing,” she murmured as she put her arms around him and kissed him again._

* * *

 

Spencer was jogged out of the memory as Laura turned and sighed once again.  She’d kept her breasts bound for weeks, at first forcing them to stop producing milk, and then…well, he wasn’t sure why anymore.  Support?  Too tender?  Some psychological issue she had yet to speak of?  He didn’t know, but he found he missed the sensation of holding her in his arms, of feeling her softness against him.  Even if they had gone back down to tiny he wanted to hold her like that again.  More than that, he wanted her to be as comfortable with her body as she had been on that night so long ago.

It was time to settle back into the routine that had been broken with Maggie’s death, he decided.  They may not be able to keep it up every day now that they were free but on the days they could they should.  Laura was a bit further along the spectrum than he was; routine was a strong comfort for her.  And even for him, having at least some days out of the week that had a routine provided a certain balance and stability he needed.  So to that end, knowing that her shifting and sighing meant that she would be waking soon, he padded downstairs. 

The house was silent nearly around him, but thankfully not entirely.  Specifically he’d picked up a shadow, Dave’s dog Munchie.  He was still not quite comfortable with dogs, too many paranoid warnings from his mother about how they would tear your face right off if you weren’t careful.  But he let the dog out, he could do that much, before going about building two mugs of decaf from the pod based coffee pot.  Coffee in the morning, tea in the afternoon, cocoa in the evening, he thought.

When he had two mugs built he let the dog back in and headed back upstairs.

* * *

 

Laura waited until he left before making her own way to the bathroom.  It wasn’t that she was hiding or sneaking or anything, but there was something she needed to do right now, this morning.  She’d started thinking about it as she fell asleep last night, and now it needed to be done.  She went to the bathroom, did what needed doing, rinsed off her face, and then unwound the bindings on her torso.

For the past few weeks she’d hated her body.

It had been so magical, really, the entire pregnancy.  She hadn’t gained much at first. But by the end of the first trimester her breasts had started growing.  Always small and round and high, kind of perfect for her form, she’d never felt the need to wear anything as restricting and uncomfortable as a bra, except under dress clothes.  A snug camisole or tank had usually done the job.  But then they started growing, and growing, and for the first time in her life she had a real set, and a sensitive one as well.  It seemed like the slightest touch had set her off.  Thankfully Spencer had been fascinated by the entire process and what he was fascinated with he had explored.  The second trimester was good.

They had stopped as soon as they started suspecting that the baby might come early, which she had anyway, and then after it had been time to feed.  That had been the most lovely, amazing sensation.  Not sexual, not like that, but amazingly sensual, she had never felt closer to any being in her life than she had the first time Maggie took her breast and the hormones really started to flow.  At that moment she’d suspected that she might end up as one of those Mom’s who never did deliberately wean, they just let the kid go as long as they wanted to.

Then there was that silence.

After that the sensitivity that had so charmed them at first became a curse.  She’d been in pain for weeks, so much pain that it made her sick, she couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, honesty wanted to just cut them off and throw them out the nearest window just so they would stop constantly, achingly reminding her of what she had lost.  On more than one occasion she’d tearfully threatened a double mastectomy as soon as they got home, any future children could be formula fed, so long as she never, ever had to go through that again.  Spencer had held her through those tearful outbursts, but always carefully so he wouldn’t touch and prolong the agony.

But now that was all over.  Her daughter’s body was in the ground.  And truthfully she could have stopped with the bindings and the short, cold showers a week ago.  But she’d been afraid of the pain and the reminders and the loss so she hadn’t even tried.

Now it was time to heal.  Now she took them off for the last time and took a good look at herself.

Completely normal.

OK, maybe a little less perky than they were before.  They sloped a little now, sagged just a touch.  But not enough to be awful at all.  She ran her hands over them, cupped the slightly, still small enough to fit, and lifted them with a hiss.  Still sensitive as they had been, more so than before.  “Now I need a bra.”  She sighed.

“Do you?”  Asked a voice behind her.

“Yeah,” she replied.  “They’re a little droopier than I would like, and too sensitive to just wear a t-shirt anymore.  Still…”  She turned and looked at herself again.  No pain.  Her body was starting to feel like her own again.  She smiled as he stepped up behind her and wrapped her arms around her torso, his uncasted arm grazing over her nipples lightly, making her arch as her body came alive again.  “Not until next week.”

“I know.”  Spencer replied as he kissed her neck.  “You’re still beautiful.”

“Good to know.”


	50. Chapter 50

**Chapter 50**

“Granted this does bring up a point,” he said as he turned back to the bedroom to carefully carry the coffee over to the nightstands.

“And what’s that?”  Laura asked.  She pulled her pajama top over her torso, without the bindings, and went to join him in the bed, accepting her coffee with a murmur of thanks.

Spencer sighed as he settled.  One of the things driving them to living together at least was the ability to do this, to snuggle down in bed with a hot beverage and the company of the other.  It was something he used to do with his mother, back when she could still read him stories to comfort them both.  As it had turned out Laura’s mother had done the same with her.  After they had become intimate they quickly found that nestling down together was one of the most satisfying parts of their new relationship, one they had not been able to enjoy of late due to the grief and Laura’s need not to be touched.  But now she settled in next to his side, where he could put an arm around her shoulders, and perhaps this one small corner of life was good again.  “Something Emily told me last night, after the funeral.  She said we can’t make a life for our children until we make a life for ourselves.”

Laura sipped her coffee and digested this for a long moment.  “She has a good point.”  She said.  “But I suspect she meant that in a way that goes beyond the immediate sense.”

“There’s an immediate sense?”

“Well, we are currently living out of suitcases in your friend’s guest room.”  She pointed out.  “Not the ideal for starting a family.”

“True.”

“But this goes beyond that.  I mean, you, at least, have work, which is at least partially defining.  I don’t know who I am anymore.  I’m not working, I’m not in school, and I’m in a completely new city.  I mean I know I’m your wife, in a way, and want to be your wife and I’m Maggie’s mom but that doesn’t have any practical bearing and outside of that I’m kind of at sea.”

He nodded.  “I can see that.  In addition I kind of suspect that the lives we, or at least I thought I was living before all this happened was not actually what was going on around me.  I…I never realized so many people _cared_ at all.”  The sheer number of people who had been at the funeral or had sent blankets was still astonishing.

“And I didn’t realize how many people saw through Karen’s nonsense.”  Laura replied.  “Some of the people at the funeral yesterday were Dad’s co-workers.  They outright said that they knew that Karen was ‘an issue’, which I assume is spook-speak for, pardon the expression, batshit crazy.”  She sipped her coffee again.  “Maybe it’s time to try a few things.”

He dipped his head to catch her eye and smiled.  Try a few things.  “Like what Martha suggested?”

“Maybe.”  She turned red in the cheeks but smiled back.  “It’s just…I know I had a setback when she lied to Dad but…it wasn’t until yesterday that I realized just how isolated she really is.  They are, I kinda feel bad for Dad now…”

“Don’t.  He made his own decision, just like my Dad has.”  It wasn’t like he’d changed his number at all.  And he’d tried writing to his father a few times, but until he saw that name on the blanket yesterday he hadn’t heard from dear old Dad since the Riley Jenkins case.  “But now I don’t know.  It seems like most people just randomly fall into a life, they sort of collect people and objects from high school onward.  Most people don’t get to build everything from the bottom up like this.”

“Not entirely from the bottom up.”  She pointed out.  “We have your team.”

“Yes, but it kinda feels like we’re starting over from what happened to Emily.  Finally.  I’m really glad about that.”  It was his turn to sip at his coffee.  “I think we should just build lives that work, you know.  Whatever makes us feel good, and...I want to say if people don’t like it…”

“…they can lump it because we both know that neither one of us is going to turn away.”

That kind of commitment, that unconditional support, was the one thing that had been missing in his life.  He was still basking in its glow.  “Yeah, but after yesterday I get the feeling that our friends won’t turn away either.  Your stepmother might have a lot to say if you cut your hair...”

“…but that is one person out of a lot more than I expected.”  He could tell by how she was looking away that her brain was ticking over.  “I think I concur, we should build lives that work for us, and see what happens.  To address the practical it’s a holiday week-end coming up and we’ll probably want to avoid the malls, so I think we should get any shopping done over the next two days.  I don’t know about you but I want some real clothes.”

“And bras.”  He teased gently.  It may sound shallow but he’d always been most comfortable in professional dress, having to spend months on end in undershirts and sweat pants had probably encouraged a certain level of depression.  What the team had brought for him was better, but not by much.  “And haircuts.”  He liked his long but this was silly.  “And new glasses.”

“And I need to see that conservator, get access to my accounts….I need to make a list.”  Laura sighed but there was a bit of a smile on her face.

“You’ll feel better if you do.”  He set aside his now empty mug.   “I’m going to go for a run before breakfast.  Make the first stop for my car and we’ll take it from there.”

* * *

 

Taking it from there lasted just until after breakfast.  “So?”  Spencer asked as he came down the stairs after his shower.

“Apparently we are not yet sufficiently healed to be out on our own.”  Laura replied with an amused smile.  “So Tonya is taking me shopping and Penelope is taking you shopping and then we’re getting takeout and meeting Derek back here for dinner before he heads to the airport to take the red eye to Chicago.  He said he’s leaving Clooney...”

“Clooney is his dog.”  Spencer informed her.  “This ought to be…interesting.”  Yeah, not.

“We’re actually swapping handlers at lunchtime.”  She told him.  “You said you trusted Penelope’s judgment when it came to haircuts, and I trust Tonya when it comes to clothes.  After lunch I have a haircut and I want to go to the yarn store and that way you don’t have to worry about people complaining about you being too geeky.”

“If they do ignore them,” Dave said as he came into the room and headed for the coffee pot.  “There’s nothing wrong with being different.  And if anyone gives you a hard time then bite back just as hard.  Just remember, most people are just nibbling.”

Spencer and Laura looked at each other.  Hopefully he was right.


	51. Chapter 51

**Chapter 51**

 “So where are we going?”  Tonya asked once Laura was in the car.

“Bras.  And jeans.”  Laura looked over at her friend. 

“Finally.”  Tonya smiled.  “You ever wear either before?”

“Nope.”

“Oh boy.”

“Bras only came in kids sizes for me, and jeans make me look too boyish, or so says Karen.”

“Pardon my French but fuck Karen.  Let’s go.”

* * *

 

“Ok, trust me.  These will work perfectly for work and do everything Laura wants too.”  Garcia said, lifting the boxes with the two tablet computers and their accessories and placing them in his arms.

“I still don’t see why.”  It all just seemed so crude to him.  So…not elegant.

“So you can share things like that when you’re out in the field.  JJ and Hotch live by these things, I swear.”

“I still want files in paper.”

“Why?”

“Because I can turn, read and analyze four pages in a file before one of those pages loads on one of these, and I am referring to Morgan’s new model.”  He got that out before her objection.  “Paper is just faster for me, you know that can mean lives.”

“Okay, fair enough, but this will let you e-mail and share calendars and all that goodness.  She also said to get you one of these.” 

Spencer looked.  One of ‘these’ was a cover that would essentially bind the thing, giving it the weight, texture and appearance of a leather bound book while allowing him to shove it in his bag without fear of damage.  “If she insists.”

* * *

 

Laura lingered as they went past the shoe department.  “What are you looking at?”  Tonya asked.

“Oh, nothing.”

“No, that was not nothing on your face.  Now give.”

“It’s silly.  Ridiculous.  Inappropriate….”

“And now you sound like Karen, talking you out of taking the limelight.  Give.”

Laura took a big, deep breath and walked over to a display.  “I told you it was silly.”  She said.  “But I had some when I was a kid and they were so comfortable I never wanted to take them off.”

“Seriously?  Honey if I knew you were this kind of wild I would have made you buy six pairs years ago.  Come on.”

* * *

 

“OK, please tell me you’re not going for the boy band look.”  Garcia said as Spencer settled into the barber’s chair. 

All right, stylist, but he was going to keep thinking of her as a barber.   “No, but shorter.  I had this cut one time that I kinda wore back.  It was about the time we went up around Seattle for that one where the mother called in a psychic….”

“Yes!  You looked fantastic with that one, older but it showed off those cheekbones.”  She grinned at the stylist, barber, whatever.  “OK, here’s what we need to do….”

* * *

 

After lunch they switched handlers.  “Seriously?”  Tonya asked him.  “Not even a polo?” 

“I’m just more comfortable in business clothes.”  He admitted.  This was the first small test of living as they wanted and damn what other people think.

“Ok, so how about a sport shirt?”  She picked up a shirt that was cut like a dress shirt but in a rich blue print…. “That is your color.”

And the test was passed.  Whoa.  Well…why not give it a try?  “All right.”

* * *

 

She had the work bag, she had the notions and she had several sets of needles, now Laura stopped to look at the yarn.  “What are you thinking?”  Garcia asked.

“That I never used to buy the stuff I wanted because I was afraid people would think I was a weirdo for liking it.”  Laura admitted.  “So I bought stuff that was nice but that was the kind of thing my friend Martha would buy, really toned down, dustier colors.” 

“Oh!  No!  Buy what you like; you’re going to be looking at it for hours on end while you work it.  You should enjoy it.”  Garcia shook her head and practically dragged her new friend over to the yarn.  “What are you making?”

Spencer and I are going to need scarves, and I need a hat and maybe some mittens and oh, I could use a new sweater or two.”

“No baby stuff?”  Garcia asked gently.

Laura smiled.  “Eventually.  We need to take care of ourselves first, get stable and all.  And that includes winter things.  What should I get for Spencer’s scarf?”

“Purple.  Trust me.”

* * *

 

“Hey, Doc.”

Morgan met them on their way into the Emerald Dragon.  He eyed the entire package, from the flannel trousers to the brown tweed sport coat to the combed back hair that just curled over Spencer’s collar, taking in the blue shirt along the way.  “Not bad.  Garcia?”

“Nope.  Well, the hair.  But um…”  He nodded to Tonya, giving her credit for the rest.  He liked it, he felt comfortable, and apparently he looked good.  What do you know.

Tonya laughed and took Derek’s arm as they walked in.  “Careful, you might be next.”

“That might be a threat.”

“Doc?”  Reid asked him.

“After yesterday?”  Morgan shook his head.  “You are not a kid anymore; I might just be one of the last to see it.  And I’ve got to call you something.”

Well, yeah.  All right.  “Doc.”  That worked. 

Spencer got about three steps into the restaurant before he stopped and stared.  Jeans.  Laura had wanted her first ever jeans, and some kind of t-shirt, and then she said she needed bras and she wanted a haircut.  But her stepmother had always told her that jeans and short hair would make her look like the boy she supposedly always wanted to be, so she’d always worn her hair kind of longish and worn skirts and blouses claimed she never felt quite comfortable.

Now she was in jeans, and some kind of top that had little straps instead of sleeves and hair shorter than his that had been cut in a way to make the ends wispy and kind of pointed somehow and the whole thing came together to make her look like some kind of fae or elfin creature masquerading as human.  She looked comfortable, and at ease and yet sexy as all hell.  He walked up to her and looked her over.  “Okay, you do not look like a boy.”  He told her.  “Are those cowboy boots?”

“Yeah, they are.”  She hiked up her pants to show the plain brown leather.  “They’re as comfortable as I remember from when I took riding lesson years ago, but they didn’t have any of the fancy ones.  When you take me out to Vegas I may have to go shopping.  I am a western girl after all.”

“You’re developing a shoe thing, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.  And you do not look like a nerd.  I like the hair, I’m glad you didn’t go too short.” 

“I’m glad you did, I can see your face now.  It looks good on you.”

“Thank you.”  She replied as she put her arms around his waist and hugged him.  “Well, we’re ready to be seen in public for who we are.  That’s got to be a place to start.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry these are slow in coming, I'm nursing an injured elbow. We might be on an every other day schedule through the week-end until it clears up


	52. Chapter 52

**Chapter 52**

That night they had come back to Dave’s and crashed, hard.  It was obvious even to them that they had done too much in one day and had exhausted themselves.  Thankfully the next day they only had to go to therapy appointments and then stop at the bakery for things for the next day’s grand feast while Dave made a few last preparations for a large snow storm that was coming in to the area.  “I wish he would let me help.”  Laura groused as they brought the bags and boxes to the car.

“He’s not going to let you lift a finger until the doctor clears you.”  Spencer replied.  “And given my own concern I’m backing him up on it.  Two days.”

“Grr.  Fine, fine.  I just wanted to show you that I can cook.  I do a fabulous turkey.”

“I know.  Next year.   He is taking some of your suggestions about it, the brining thing and the apple….”

“Makes the juiciest turkey ever, just wait and see.”

They went back to Dave’s, put things away, and then Spencer settled at the kitchen island to explore this tablet thing while Laura went upstairs to change something.  But it wasn’t long before she called, “Spence, would you come up here a moment, please?”

“Sure.”  He didn’t exactly look away as he went into the bedroom and settled at the foot of the bed.  “What’s up?”

“Something my therapist was talking about earlier.”  She said from the bathroom.

“Oh?  I thought you seemed a bit distracted.”

“She asked right off if we were considering another baby right away and I said yes, in another five months and she kind of gave me a lecture about how sex was supposed to promote intimacy between partners and how it wasn’t just for reproduction  and how thinking that it is is not healthy.”

“Did you explain the concept of sapiosexuality to her?”  They didn’t need sex to be intimate.  Talking, sharing ideas and thought, sharing experiences and just time together, that’s what built intimacy for them, not the coming together of bodies.  It had been six weeks since any form of sexual encounter, ten since the last time they had intercourse and he felt closer and more intimately connected with her than ever.  Even during those horrid lost weeks when they practically had to write notes her body language alone allowed them to maintain that intimate communication.

“I did.  I tried to explain that sex was about reproduction and play for us but it wasn’t a requirement but she didn’t get it.  If this becomes an issue I might need a different therapist.  Speaking of playtime….”

“I’m sure we can find one more open to alternative sexuality in the area, for both of us if need be.”  He sensed her coming to stand quite close, almost brushing his knee.  “What about…”  He looked up and all of his thoughts jumbled into a pile in his head.

She had bought bras after all

He had seen her naked before.  Hell, he’d seen her in every sort of open vulnerability; he’d had to deliver Maggie and then everything that came after.  But there was just something about that remarkably small bit of pink silk and creamy lace, how everything was just plumped and lifted, a gift offered to him, waiting to be unwrapped.  In two days, not now.  He swallowed, swallowed again, and looked up at her.  “That’s not fair.”  He said.  She giggled in reply, which meant that he had to set that tablet aside, take her by the waist, and pull her down on the bed, the better to kiss every ticklish spot and make her giggle all the harder.

When did this first become about play, anyway?

* * *

 

_Every.  Night.  Pig._

_Spencer balled up the note that had come down in the dumbwaiter and threw it at the wall in frustration.  They weren’t livestock fit for breeding, they were people.  They were human beings with wants and needs and desires of their own.  And what they really needed was not to be doing this._

_Last night had started out well but had ended poorly.  Laura had verbally consented and the necking portion of the evening had been lovely, but getting her body up to speed for the grand event had proven impossible.  It was expected, everything he had ever read had said that women didn’t always orgasm the first time they tried intercourse, just use lots of lube and if you have to finish in some other way that was fine, so long as she wasn’t left too afraid to try again.  Of course every book he had ever read had assumed access to lube and no psychotic freak breathing down your neck.  I ought to write a manual, he thought, what to do when you’re kidnapped, including a chapter on sex, if I can ever figure this out._

_“He’s not giving us the night off, is he?”  Laura asked, her whole being seeming to sag._

_Fuck.  “No.”  Spencer replied with a calmness he didn’t feel.  “I’m sorry.”  She was still sore, probably bruised, but better sore and bruised than slow death by dehydration.  But…  “Please don’t say let’s get this over with.”  If she did that he might not be able to function and then they were, well, screwed._

_“So what do you want to do?”_

_Good question, very good question.  He looked around the space, he had one idea, but he needed her to relax or else he might not be able to make it work.  What did they have, what did they…. Ah, that might work.  Then the dumbwaiter rattled.  “Have dinner, and take it from there.”_

_Later, after a meal where he tried to keep her from thinking about what was to come and some cocoa to help them both relax, he tugged her into the bedroom.  “Ever play poker?”_

_“Yeah, back at the house, anyone who didn’t have a date on Friday night.”_

_“Good.”  He settled on the bed and started shuffling.   “Let’s play.”_

_He deliberately lost a fair percentage of hands.  She was a reasonable player, about as good as JJ, not as good as Emily, but decent.  After the first half dozen hands she spoke up.  “So, how is this supposed to lead to what we have to do tonight?”_

_Truth was, he’d been too embarrassed to tell her.  “Well, I…”_

_“Unless you were considering strip poker,” he felt his ears catch on fire and saw her blush.  “We could try that I guess.”_

_The Unsubs had been very practical in their choices of clothing to leave down here.  They each had underpants and socks, plain pajama type pants and packs of men’s undershirts in likely sizes.  He had taken to wearing the shirt he’d been wearing the day he’d been taken as a light over layer, to keep from feeling too underdressed.  The day he’d arrived she admitted that they had taken her clothing, a disturbing thought, and so she just had the items they had left for her, so he’d given her his vest to wear for more coverage.  That meant that they each had a few layers to remove as they went._

_He deliberately spaced it so that by the time she was down to her underpants and t-shirt he was down to his pants and underpants, having just sacrificed his undershirt to the cause.  “I’d like to propose a change in the rules.”  He said, hopefully calmly._

_“Oh?”_

_“There’s, um, something I’d like to try.  If I win the next hand…”_

_She looked up, much less nervous and more curious now.  “What would you like to try?”_

_He just smiled.  “Let’s see if I win first.”_

_Of course he won.  He cheated._

_She groaned.  “Ahhh!  All right, so what are we trying?”  In response he set the cards aside, leaned over and started kissing her.  That much he was quite comfortable with, that had gone flawlessly.  “Good place to start.”  She murmured between kisses._

_“Just keep breathing and try to relax.”  He replied.  It was the same advice he’d given her the night before, which had more or less helped.  She complied as they kissed over and over, and he nipped lightly at her jaw and the side of her neck, which started her squirming.  Once she’d relaxed that far he kissed further down, down to her amazingly sensitive breasts, which filled his palms so perfectly.  He smiled as he heard those soft, desperate noises start, little whimpers and moans as he caressed the soft roundness and gently tweaked the tips.  Yes, this part was working as well as it had last night also._

_Finally Laura growled a little in frustration and pulled her shirt over her head.  “Tease.”  She complained.  In response he dipped his head and took one hard point into his mouth, sucking a little more than gently and running his tongue over the tip.  Her fingers twined in his hair as she arched her back, instinctively begging for more.  And he gave her more, switching from one to the other, tweaking and sucking and even biting gently, until she was warm and swollen and tugging on his hair to get him to stop before it was all too much._

_Tonight Spencer didn’t go back to kissing her as his hands roamed lower.  As he had suspected her underpants were damp, but not as much as last night, when he’d mistakenly thought that was enough.  Now he knew better.  He kissed her tummy as he peeled them off, then her inner thigh, where, as hokey as it sounded everything really did smell like some intoxicating flower._

_“What are you doing?”  She asked.  But it came out as a moan and her legs relaxed and parted at his touch._

_“Breathe.”  He told her as he ran his hand over the soft skin of her thighs.  “Tell me to stop if you need.”  He said as he pressed a kiss to that scrap of natural redhead fur.  Not a clue what he was doing but he was low on options at the moment.  So he used his thumbs to open her.  “Breathe.”  He said again.  She took a deep breath and slowly let it out and as she did he gently stroked where that nub ought to be.   He was rewarded with a groan and a slight thrust of her hips toward him.  “Breathe.”  He repeated again, and this time on the out breath he lowered his head and licked._

_“Spencer!  Oh!”_

_It wasn’t as bad as he had expected; salty, yes, and kind of tangy and somehow something sweet and rich under that.  A few moments into it he started feeling a buzz, prostaglandins and pheromones and some witchlike mixture of biochemicals that was giving him some kind of all-natural high that only helped the situation.  He quickly got a rhythm going, matching her breathing, the rocking of her hips, the way her hands fisted in the sheets as the sensation built.  After a few moments of this he carefully slid one finger in where she was (oh good heavens!) so very hot and tight and gently moved it in and out and deeper with every rock.  Then he used two fingers, then a third, and then he told her to “Breathe and relax, here.”  And she opened for him as he spread his fingers to stretch and this flood of thick, gel-like moisture started literally running to ease his passage, which was exactly what he had hoped for._

_With his other hand he took her and settled her fingers over that tiny nub, now so very swollen and ready.  “Keep breathing.”  He said as she almost instinctively started working herself while his fingers continued to fill her.  He didn’t exactly need any help himself, he was already hard enough to explode, all he had to do was fumble down his pants and slide up her body until he could position himself at the slick place his fingers occupied._

_“Yes!”  She was pleading, begging in between those sweet little moans.  “Spence, please!  Please!”_

_It was easy this time, she was slick and open and ready now.  He pulled his fingers free, quickly coated himself (oh god!) with that thick gel and slipped into her, very nearly all the way in one thrust.  In response she thrust her hips up and took him to the hilt, still working herself, almost using him to get herself where she needed to go.  And he had no qualms with that, just seeing her entire being suffused with that intense pleasure while she surrounded him was nearly enough to do him in.  Then she started rocking her hips up into him, setting something that felt very nearly like a vacuum sealed with all that wetness and sucking him in tight and all thinking stopped as she suddenly tightened around him and howled!  “Ohhhh!  Spencer, yes!  Yes!  Yes!  Yes!”_

_He didn’t even think.  His hips snapped forward without him, once, twice, and the force of it rolled down from his spine and it was his turn to howl as he emptied himself into her._

_Last night after he had filled her she had complained of some kind of almost-cramping.  Tonight it was clear what it was supposed to be.  A heartbeat after he finished, after she had pulled her hands free and had reached for him, her eyes went wide.  “Oh god!”  She gasped and then she tightened and came again, this time even harder, her nails digging into his back, leaving marks for the morning.  She managed one strangled scream as she tightened before collapsing back on the bed and shuddering._

_He landed on his forearms, gently cupping her face as he caught his breath.  “Laura, are you okay?”  She opened eyes dilated to darkness to look at him, then she smiled and started laughing, this easy, right laugh that just went on and on.  If he didn’t know better he’d think she was….”You’re high.”  He informed her.  But then he was feeling more than a little buzzed himself._

_“Yeah.”  She managed to gasp out.  “We should do it again, that was fun .”_

_It was fun.  Sex could just be fun.  For fun, with the right playmate.  “Brilliant idea.”_

 


	53. Chapter 53

**Chapter 53**

Now Spencer merrily kissed the woman he planned to marry in all the right ticklish spots, while Laura laughed and tried to push him toward other places.  Not that she tried all that hard but she tried.  Eventually though she got him by the ears and tugged him up to her lips, to sweet kisses that turned warmer and then hotter with want.  For a moment he forgot himself and honestly thought it was going to happen.  He hadn’t realized he wanted that much.  But between those kisses Laura murmured, “No,” even as she pressed her temple against his cheek.  Not with anger, or fire, or heat but a regretful reminder that at this moment they couldn’t.

“I know.”  He murmured back.  The heat, the tease, would have to do for now.  But when he pulled back he saw the old pain shadowing her eyes.  “What’s wrong?”  He murmured, even though he knew.  He’d learned after Emily, after Maeve, that even when you were finally past enough of it that you could get up on your back legs, as his mother used to say, the pain could still come back for a moment and burn off a layer over your heart.

She pressed into his cheek again, held him tight and fierce.  When she pulled back she kissed him, gentle and soft.  “We’re alive.”  She murmured.

* * *

 

_He kissed Laura one last time, dropped one last kiss on Maggie’s soft head.  It was time and they knew it.  There was a child and both child and mother were healthy so his services were no longer needed.  He knew from the look in her eyes that the Unsub was standing behind him.  “We won’t forget.”  Laura promised._

_“I know.”  Spencer smiled.  He’d had six thousand and forty-seven hours.  Six thousand and forty-seven of the sweetest hours known to man.  A lifetime could be lived in those six thousand and forty-seven hours.  And now Maggie was alive in the world.  He couldn’t ask for more.  “I love you.”  He murmured to his family one last time.  And then he turned and faced the Unsub, who was standing there with his shotgun at the ready.  He stepped over to the bars, carefully placing himself between the Unsub and Laura as best he could._

_“Please.”  Laura said her voice full of tears._

_“Shut up, sow.” The Unsub growled.  “Baby’s early.  Is it healthy?”_

_“As far as we can tell.  She’s breathing and nursing.”  Spencer took a deep breath.  “Can we do this somewhere else?”  He asked.  He didn’t want Laura to see._

_The Unsub frowned.  “Why?”  He said.  And then he raised the weapon to his shoulder and fired…._

* * *

 

“We’re alive.”  He murmured back.  They had lived, and Maggie was safe.  Now they could make every dream come true.  That was worth kissing her again.

Of course that was when Laura’s phone rang.  But it made her smile.  “Never thought I’d be happy to hear a phone ring.”  She said, holding him in place on top of her while she dug it out of her pants.  Happy?  Ah, it meant she was connected to something somewhere somehow.  “Hello?”  She paused.  “This is she.”  Pause.  “I don’t even have my calendar set up but you guys are top priority right now.”  Pause.  “Sure, Tuesday at 10:30 will work.”  Pause.  “North entrance, got it.”  She nodded at Spencer, a nod he returned, yes, he would remember.  “Great, thank you very much.  Bye.” 

“Who was that?”  He asked.

“The midwife’s office.  Apparently there is a big storm coming in and they are going to close on Friday because of it.”

Which meant Tuesday.  Which meant five days, not two.  He dropped his head into her shoulder and gave a grumbling sort of sigh, when did this become such a big deal anyway?  Oh, right, when they started doing it every night so he had the hormones going all the time… “I wonder if there’s a 12-step for this sort of thing.”

“There is but wanting your mate after childbirth is not a sign of addiction.”  She smiled.  “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault at all.”  Just then there was a commotion downstairs, the dogs barking.  “I should probably go see…”

“And I came up here to change out of my jeans.”  She replied.  “I’m not far behind you.”  As he rolled off her and on to his feet she looked up at him with a mischievous smile.  “I suppose I should save the matching panties for next week.”

He whimpered slightly and headed downstairs.

The commotion turned out to be Morgan and Garcia.  “I thought you were going to Chicago.”  Spencer said.

“I was.  O’Hare is shut down for the weather.  Now I’m not going anywhere.”  Morgan grumbled.

“JJ and Will are in Philly with her mother.”  Dave said from over where he was stirring something in a pot.  “Hotch and Jack are down in Richmond with Haley’s family, and Alex is already in New York with Stuart, he got to fly in from Haiti for the holiday.  That leaves the four of us.  I’ve got enough room and traveling is going to be a pain in the ass so I told them to stay.  Better here than in a cold apartment if the power goes.  Penelope, you get the other guest room, Morgan, you get the futon in the den; it’s comfortable.”

“Sounds like fun.”  Spencer said as Morgan gathered the bags to drop them in the right rooms.  “Anything I can do to help?”

“With that arm?”  Dave asked in reply.

“Anything _I_ can do to help?”  Laura asked, coming down behind him in more comfortable pants and a sweater. 

“No, you can take it easy.”

“You know, I could at least lift the weight of a baby.”  She pointed out.

“You don’t know that.  You haven’t seen the doctor yet.”  Dave replied.  “Besides, I’ve got Garcia here to help.”

“I can at least sit here and clean and chop vegetables.”  She insisted.

Dave sighed.  “All right, if you insist.  But no lifting anything.”

The afternoon progressed amiably into the evening.  Work was done, stories were told, computers were set up and games were played.  Finally over dessert Spencer asked.  “So what are we doing tomorrow?”

“Sleeping in,” Garcia announced. 

“Count me in.”  Morgan said.  “I’m not going running in that kind of snow.”

“I don’t have to get the turkey in before noon.”  Dave agreed.

 “You don’t watch the parade?”  Spencer asked.  The Thanksgiving parade in New York was legendary by now, he didn’t have to specify.

“You still get up for that thing?”  Garcia asked.

Spencer and Laura looked at each other.  And there it was, the first true test of their determination to live exactly as they wanted.  In the past he would have said no, of course not, don’t be silly he was far too mature, just to not rock the boat, not appear different, and not make anyone feel like attacking the weirdo.  But not anymore.  Not anymore.  “Yes, I do.  Mom loves it, we watch it every year.”  Most years he tried to get out to Vegas for the holiday, but he wasn’t traveling with Laura before she saw the doctor.  They would make up for it with the wedding.  “It’s become a tradition.”

“And Mom and I always watched it every year.”  Laura replied, a smile of gratitude in her eyes just for him.  “I still do, I admit it.”

“Fine,” Dave said.  “If you two want to get up that early you can start the slow-cooker at eight.  But you get to cook, _if_ you’re up to it.”

Spencer and Laura blinked at each other.  It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

* * *

 

As it turned out it could.

The next morning, while the snow started to gently fall and the house slept around them Spencer watched as Laura cooked for him for the first time.  It was just eggs and ham and toast but it was all done to her exact standards and just for the two of them.

He’d dreamed of this.

He’d remembered coming home after school every day and having a grilled cheese sandwich waiting for him.  Or milk and fresh cookies.  Or dinner in the oven making the house smell divine.  Back when he was that young his mother had had the time and energy and focus to cook and she cooked often and well for her little boy.  It was a sign of how much she loved him.  But then Dad left and she had to support them and it was so hard.  It wasn’t that she loved him any less she just didn’t have the energy or focus any more.  And with that loss of focus came a lot of pain.  But he always remembered how she cooked for him, used to sit and read cookbooks of the kind of food that always meant love.

Now Laura was cooking for him, just for him, the kind of food that always meant love.  This was right up there with a good conversation, or sex.  And the food was amazing too.

Afterwards they took coffee and muffins into the family room to settle in and watch the parade.  “Wait until you taste my muffins.”  She told him.  “I make the first batch of pumpkin pecan muffins every year for Thanksgiving.”

The bakery muffins were good and kept her from doing too much work.  But still, “I can’t wait.”  He said, lifting his arm so she could snuggle.  “Do you have recipes for any other holiday?”

“You mean like cranberry orange walnut for Christmas?  Or mocha chip for New Years?”

Oh god.  “Yeah, like that.”

“Yeah.”  He felt her smile.  “Thank you for insisting on this.”

“Can’t skip our first family tradition.”  After all, they were alive to celebrate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still down by a wing, but better. Give me a couple more days and then I ought to be back up to speed.


	54. Chapter 54

**Chapter 54**

Later they would call that their last protected time, the last week-end where their friends were able to shield them from the world.  After that week-end everything, good and bad, started to happen.

After an entirely perfect Thanksgiving, including the best feast any of them had ever remembered having, football which Morgan and Dave insisted upon, Spencer tolerated, and Penelope and Laura knit through, and calls to loved ones far away they woke the next morning to several feet of snow and an expected lack of power.  Thankfully Dave’s kitchen could adapt to that, so breakfast was had and then they went about helping him decorate for the holiday.  “Who’s planning on being in the area for Christmas?”  Dave asked.

“I am.”  Penelope said.

“I don’t know…”  Laura looked to Spencer.

Her family was out of the question, of course.  “Mom gets overly stressed on the holiday, as do many of the patients there, so they don’t actually celebrate the holiday.”  Spencer said.  “I usually just go out for Thanksgiving, but this year we’ll probably go sometime between now and then, if you’re up for it.”

“I’d love to meet your mother.”  Laura said.  She turned back to Dave, “Looks like we’ll be in town.”

Dave nodded.  “What about you?”  He asked Morgan.

“Depends,” Morgan looked at them with a wolf-like grin.  “Is Tonya coming in to town?”

While his face didn’t change, inwardly Spencer frowned.

* * *

 

_Two weeks after they started Lizzy actually came down to meet them.  She was much younger than they expected, all of eight, and woefully undereducated.  Still, he’d been able to walk her through what she needed to know to contact the team.  By that night she’d sent a note saying she’d talked to them and given them what little he had to go on._

_He hadn’t told her about the forced sex.  He would not add to the psychological abuse that way._

_Thankfully Mr. Kipling, as he was known, had brought supplies of all sorts, including things they had requested, everything from research for their work to books to yarn for Laura to lube.  Granted it was a special kind that was supposed to enhance fertility, but it also worked very, very well.  That was why he could take her slowly now, savoring each exquisite moment.  There was something deeply precious and special about having someone just trust him with all of this, with letting him in to her body, letting him change it in ways both subtle and profound.  As far as he was concerned it was only right that she enjoy the process._

_That was why, after they had kissed until their lips were swollen and he had stroked off her clothing he rolled so she was on top this time, straddling his body.  He raised his hips to roll against her.  “I want to see.”  He said._

_“What?”  She murmured, looking at him with eyes already dilated with pleasure._

_“I want to watch, I want to see what you do.”  He reached down and positioned himself at her entrance.  “Sit up.”_

_“Huh?”_

_“Up.”  He eased her into a kneeling position, groaning as she sheathed him in all that silken heat.  He quickly turned his mind to the numbers, letting them give him some distance so this wouldn’t be over too quickly.  “Show me what feels right.”  He said as he gently caressed her spread thighs._

_As he watched her hands roamed, first to her breasts, touching lightly there, lighter than he had expected.  But the hand that drifted between her legs was direct and firm, he could feel it against the root of his penis, how she worked herself.  It was only a moment before she lost herself in the pleasure, rocking him against something deep inside her body while she touched the places that felt so good.  He got up on his elbows to better watch, and in response she dropped the hand at her breasts, letting him watch all of her as she quickly worked herself to sharp climax._

_“What are you thinking about?”  She panted, as her hand, now damp and hot, dropped away and landed on his hip._

_“Statistics,” he admitted.  But he took her by the waist and flipped her under him, driving into her at just the angle to work that nerve from the inside now, while he leaned down to nuzzle at her neck, her breasts.  Sudden thought, he hadn’t shaved that morning, now he gently brushed those tender bits with the bristles on his chin and was rewarded with their tightening, a sudden sharp cry, her hips thrusting back up to him again.  This time was quick and hot as he took her to a second peak, and then her eyes widened again as he gave in and emptied into her.  He held her as she shuddered and laughed with the sheer joy running through her veins.  “Two?”  He asked._

_“Three.”  She gasped out.  “You’re ruining me.”  She told him_

_Ruining?  For other men?  He pushed aside the twinge of….was that jealousy...he felt at the thought?  “Kind of the goal here.”  He rolled again, pulling her boneless body into his arms as he remained inside her.  “This may be wrong to admit but I’m trying to keep you outside of the statistical norm.”_

_“Hmmm?”  Her response included opening a lazy eye to look up at him._

_“Statistically only 25% of women actually reach orgasm during intercourse, although 98% are capable, the difference being that the remainder requires some form of direct clitoral stimulation.”  He replied.  He always did like having something to toy with, his own form of stimming, and her body was ideal for the purpose, specifically the long curves of her back and the soft waves that fell behind her ear.  “The problem being that direct stimulation before actual copulation is considered optional by most men and during copulation is actually offensive, implying that they aren’t good enough when really, it’s the position.  Usually the more committed the relationship the more willing the male partner is to accept the female’s need for direct stimulation, but even with that five percent still remain unable to climax during any given encounter.”_

_“So…you’re out to make sure I have a good time every time.”  She asked._

_“Yes.”  He told her._

_“Why?”_

_A dozen reasons crowded his mind but the one that came out came from his heart.  “Because I love you and you deserve it.”_

_She stretched up to kiss him.  “I love you too.”_

* * *

 

Spencer mentally sighed.  He understood now that Morgan’s unfortunate habit of only going out with a woman once, of taking her to his bed and then never looking back, was a reflection of what had happened with Carl Buford, a way of proving his masculinity by having nearly every woman attracted to him.  It just wasn’t fair to the women though, the chance of a woman actually enjoying herself during a random, one-time encounter was only 15%.  It was more that they received validation for reaching the extreme and constantly shifting beauty standards of society, having an attractive, virile man take them to his bed was proof that they were doing a good job with the body maintenance, no more.  But he also knew that Morgan was a good man at heart and if he knew that the women weren’t really enjoying themselves….ah, but how could he tell him?

“Why?”  Laura asked him

“Oh, you know.”  Morgan grinned.

“So you can hook-up?”

“Morgan here is notorious for it.”  Penelope admitted.  “I don’t think he’s ever gone out with a woman twice.”

“I don’t hear them complaining.”  He bragged.

Laura gave Morgan a very patient smiled.  “Let me tell you something about women and sex….”


	55. Chapter 55

**Chapter 55**

Morgan didn’t buy it, of course, but at least Laura tried.  Besides, he was going to Chicago to make up for missing Thanksgiving.

After breakfast they went to work on the decorations, starting with dragging them down from the attic.  Well, everyone else did the dragging.  “How much longer are you in that thing?”  Morgan asked.

Spencer looked at the cast on his hand and sighed.  It was going to be perfect, the way it was healing, but for now it was an immense annoyance.  “One more week.”

Morgan sighed and went up for more boxes.

“Okay, so real tree or fake?”  Penelope asked as she and Laura started unpacking the tree.

“Neither.”  Laura replied.  “Either you kill a perfectly good tree and burn off all this carbon getting it to town or else you’re talking petrochemicals and shoddy construction that has to be replaced every five years.”

“Live then?”

“No.  Live trees sound like a better option but they’re really more like overgrown bonsai.  They never develop a proper root system so in another twenty years they’ll come down and take established trees with them.”  She sighed.  “I had this iron tree I found on a trip to Arizona once; it was a good six foot tall with all these curly branches.  You could wire evergreen garlands around then and tuck the ends into these pockets on the trunk designed to hold water.  Took forever to set up but you’d have a tree that looked and smelled like a cut tree but only used the trimmed off branches so the tree would live on, and the iron frame would last forever.”  She looked over at Spencer.  “When we get a house I’m getting another one.”

“All right.”  Given that the miniature artificial one that once sat on his coffee table had been lost in the deluge he was not going to complain.

“So what else did you plan for the holidays?”  Penelope asked.

“I don’t…”  Laura sighed.  “I don’t know.  I…didn’t…”

“Oh come on, not anything?  Favorite music, favorite cookies, oh we must do a cookie swap…”  Penelope started poking into boxes and pulling out ornaments as Dave stopped to turn on some holiday music.

As the first strains of White Christmas threaded around the room Laura lowered her head to her hands and started to weep.  It took Spencer a moment to realize what was wrong.  As soon as he did he dropped to the floor beside her and pulled her into his arms.

Morgan was down with more boxes.  “What happened?”  He asked.

“I brought something up by accident.”  Penelope told him.  She got down on the floor on Laura’s other side.  “I’m sorry, sweetie.”  She said.

“What?”

Spencer looked over at him.  “Maggie was due on or around the 23rd.”  Morgan winced as he got it, and nodded.

“First Christmas?”  Penelope asked.

“No.”  Morgan replied.  “We profiled that Rudger wouldn’t need Reid around once the baby was born and healthy.

It took a moment but all of a sudden Penelope got it.  “Oh my god,” she breathed.

Spencer nodded, his chin rubbing lightly over Laura’s hair.  He was supposed to be _dead_ for Christmas.  Hell, he was supposed to have died _on_ Christmas, no wonder she hadn’t planned for a holiday.  But she had been so strong and brave, for him and for Maggie all this time, savoring every moment, not wanting to think ahead…

Now that Penelope knew, though, she quickly understood and gently rubbed Laura’s shoulder.  “Oh, its okay sweetie, he’s alive.  You’re here.  Everyone is safe.  You can fall apart now, it’s okay.”

That started Laura laughing through her tears.  “It’s…so…silly.”  She gasped.  “It’s…over…now…”

“Yeah, but you’ve been holding it in, what with everything else.  Now that you’re safe your body just needs to let it go.  So have a good cry, its okay.  You’ll feel better when it’s over.”

Because it’s not just the life of your child you can build in your head, Spencer thought as Laura soaked his shirt; it can be the life without the other half of your heart.  She thought she was going to lose me, all that time.  “I love you.”  He murmured into her hair as Penelope protected the other side and Morgan and Dave kept bringing down boxes and the dogs came over to see.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good.”  She managed to sob out.  “Don’t.”

* * *

 

Eventually her tears dried and they settled in to an orgy of decorating.  Dave did not believe in skimping on the holidays, even when it was just him.  “I never know if my nieces or nephews are going to drop by.”  He explained.  “I want them to have good memories of Uncle Dave’s place.”

“Given that this is Christmas wonderland they’d better.”  Penelope explained.

Laura came and perched on the arm of a chair by where Spencer was helping Penelope untangle lights.  “Gingerbread cookies?”  She asked.  “Frosted walnut cookies?  Vanilla balls?  Snowdrops?”

“All of the above.”  He replied.  “Where are you getting this?”

She showed him the screen of her tablet.  “Are those the cookbooks you liked?”

“Yeah.” 

“Those are my favorites too.”

“Reid forgot something?”  Penelope asked.

“Neither of us could remember the publisher.”  Laura replied.  “It’s not something you look at.  Granted the design is distinctive, but that didn’t help much in there.”

“Does that mean we should make Christmas dinner potluck?”  Dave asked.

Laura grinned at him.  “Does that mean you’ll let me cook?”

He gave her a mock sigh.  “If you insist.”

“So if you two are planning kids does that mean the second holiday tradition is potluck dinner at Grandpa Dave’s?”  Penelope asked, her eyes wide with mock innocence.

 “Don’t call me that!”  Dave groaned in equally mock protest.

While they volleyed Laura leaned against Spencer’s shoulder.  “Family.”  She murmured.

Yes, Spencer thought, family.  Alive and well.

 


	56. Chapter 56

**Chapter 56**

The week-end was a safe and good one, but by Monday morning the city was shoveling out.  And everyone except Spencer and Laura had to go to work.  “Are you sure?”  Spencer asked as he trailed along behind Dave.

“Yes, I trust you.”  Dave replied.  “Just stay clear of my office.  I have book notes set out and if they get jumbled I’m going to be hours putting them back in order.”

“What if you go out on a case?’

“Then feed the dogs for us.  Morgan still can’t get back to his place.  If we don’t go out on a case we’ll bring back more files tonight.”

And with that they were alone.  They landed at coffee pot.  “You’re not going to let me make cookies, are you?”  Laura asked.

“Given that neither of us should be lifting the mixing bowl, no.”  Spencer replied.  “After tomorrow.”

She sighed.

They spent a comfortable morning in the family room, watching more snow fall (Thankfully not that much), listening to music and working on getting their lives in order, filed electronically and synched.  But sometime before noon Spencer’s phone rang.  “Can you two come in?”  Hotch asked.

“Sure, what’s going on?”

* * *

 

“A settlement?”  Laura asked.

“Yes.”  Mr. Jameson, her conservator/attorney said.  “While GlobalTech assumes no liability in this case they feel that some kind of restitution is in order.”

“You mean they want to pay us off.”  Spencer replied.  When the GlobalTech lawyers didn’t know how to reach them they contacted Hotch, who in turn called in Laura’s attorney and contacted HR for legal assistance for him.  Now it was the four of them sitting there looking over the…offer.

“Pretty much,” Blair, the lawyer from HR said.

“I don’t see why though.  It’s not their fault that their CEO went Unsub, why would we sue them?”

“Because no matter how many times it’s said that corporations are people, they really aren’t, or so I learned from Dad.”  Laura replied.  “A gentleman’s agreement won’t do it for them, they want something legally binding.”

“Yeah. But why?”

“Hmmm…I’m guessing because a reporter has been sniffing around and they’re afraid this story will go public and drag down their stock price.  If they already had a settlement in hand it wouldn’t be as much of an issue, and they could stipulate that we not talk to the press.”

“We wouldn’t!”  Spencer insisted.  He so did not want the press in his private life.

“Again, not people.”  Laura gently reminded him.  “Personally I never did plan to sue, but if playing their game keeps this from spreading pain to their employees or any retirees who are holding on to their stock then I’m willing to play along.  What are they offering?”

The lawyers placed open files in front of each of them, with a number on them that made Spencer swallow a few times.  It looked like he wasn’t going to have to worry about looking after Mom while supporting a family, or if the increasingly unlikely chance of needing Bennington, or retirement, or…

But Laura looked less than pleased, even though her papers held the same number.  “Wait a minute, what’s this clause here?”

“That clause stipulates that you will not discuss or disclose any part of what happened in public.”  Mr. Jameson said.

Laura’s eyes flashed.  “No.”  She replied.  “Our daughter died.  Talking about that to a reporter is one thing, but if I want to shout that from the rooftops I will.”  She handed the file back over.  “Looks like they’re going to have to accept a gentleman’s agreement after all.”

Spencer agreed.

* * *

 

“The question is,” Laura said that night over supper, “Did I just shoot us in the foot?  I mean granted I do have money set aside to buy a house, maybe not the best house…”

“For what we’re willing to pay, more like an apartment.”  Spencer replied.  He still had Bennington to pay for, and he wanted Laura to be able to stay home with the kids.  That meant everything would be tight but they could manage, he thought.

“So what kind of a house are you looking for?”  Morgan asked as the food started going around. 

Spencer shook his head and deferred to Laura.  It wasn’t just that he trusted her, it was that her degree made her somewhat of an expert in turning a building into a home.  “If I could do anything, something older, I think.”  She said.  “I’ve always dreamed of restoring an older home.”

“You’re speaking his language.”  Dave said as Morgan’s grin grew wider and wider.  “He’s restored about a dozen in the area so far.”

Laura’s eyes got all sparkly, “Seriously?”  She turned to Morgan.  “You’ll help, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna make you both get hands-on.  Have you considered a row house?”  Laura gave him a confused look and shook her head.  “If you can manage the initial investment and put some serious sweat equity in you can come out with a nice, small home with a yard and a couple of apartments to boot to pay for the utilities and mortgage.”

“Really?”  Now she was grinning.  “Awesome!”

Spencer looked over at Dave.  “What just happened?”

“You just got voluntold.”  Dave chuckled.

Oh boy.

 


	57. Chapter 57

**Chapter 57**

That night when he came out of the bathroom Spencer found Laura huddled up in bed with her chin on her knees.  “What’s wrong?”  He asked, dropping to the bed beside her.

“I’m scared about tomorrow.”  She admitted.  “I’m scared about what the doctor will say.”

“Why?”

“Right now we’re assuming we can try again.  What if we can’t for some reason?”

Which was the fear that had been curling around in the back of his mind ever since Maggie was born.  Now her question dragged it into the light.  “I don’t know.  What do you think?”

She was quiet a long moment.  “You’re my family, no matter what.”

“I agree.”  He ran a hand along her shoulders and pulled her into his arms.  They were a family now, a family of two here and one gone on and even if it never went beyond that that was enough.  “You will marry me, right?”  Not that it was needed, but maybe he needed his own reassurances.

“In a heartbeat.”

“Good.”

* * *

 

The next morning dawned bright and cold.  Spencer and Laura bundled up and headed for their appointment despite the temperature.  No more waiting.

Spencer fully expected the long, detailed interview he underwent with the midwife.  After all, he had been the only one at the birth, the only attendant throughout the pregnancy.  Thankfully he was able to remember every last detail and was able to give a report so exact that said midwife could almost have been there.

He had not expected to be invited in for the exam, or for Laura to insist that he accompany her.  “What am I supposed to do?”  He asked when she stepped behind the screen to change.

“Hold my hand when I ask you.  Answer any questions.”  She replied.  A few moments later she came out in the traditional exam gown and settled on the table, pulling the warm blanket left there over her waist and around her hips.

“All right.”

He looked away when the midwife pulled down Laura’s gown to spend an exorbitant amount of time palpating her breasts.  He understood that this was to check for any infections, cysts, tumors, but it still bothered him.  He wanted Laura to have her body back somehow, this was not helping.

Then it was time for the main event.  “What do I do?”  He asked.

“Sit here.”  The midwife said, indicating a small stool.  “Put your back to me and face your partner.”

Once he was in position Laura took his hand firmly.  “Sensitive cervix,” she said.  “I hate this part.”

“Sorry.”  Spencer had an intellectual knowledge of what was going on, but he was quite happy to not actually have to look under that sheet.  Instead he let Laura grip his hand as hard as she liked and watched her face as she winced and tried not to squirm.  “It should be over quickly.”

“Indeed it is.”  The midwife said.  “All done; let’s get you up.”  He helped Laura up to a sitting position, the nurse moving to tuck the sheet around her lower half.  “Well, you look to be in perfect health.  A few minor tears but they’ve healed nicely.  If I didn’t know better I’d say you delivered here, you must have had a good midwife.”  She smiled at Spencer.

Laura smiled at him as well.  “I think he was the best.  So does that mean I can resume…”

“Any and all daily activities, including intercourse, yes.”

“And we can have more children?”

“If you want to you could theoretically start at any time.  But I would give yourself the full six months to regain the bone mass.  In the meantime since you plan to start within the year I’d recommend condoms for birth control and a daily prenatal vitamin.”

“All right.  Thank you.”  Laura smiled and went to go get dressed.

On the way out he took her hand to walk down the icy sidewalk.  “Relieved?”

“Yes.”  She said with a happy sigh.  “You?”

More than he could say.  “Absolutely.”  He raised her fingers to his lips before letting her into the car.

* * *

 

That afternoon they had therapy appointments.  On the way home Spencer received a call.  “We’re heading into the field on a case.”  Dave said.  “Keep an eye on the dogs.”

“Of course,” Spencer said.  “If you need any help send Anderson over with the file.”

“You sure?”

“I’m honestly not ready to leave Laura alone, but if I can help from here I’m up for it.”

“Fair enough.  What did the doctor say?”

“She received a clean bill of health.  The next milestone will be my getting this cast off on Friday.”

“Good to know.  We were all a little concerned.  Oh, and Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“For the record, I don’t care what my guests do in my guest room.”

Oh

* * *

 

That night they went home with take out.  With nothing planned for Wednesday they decided to go to the grocery store the next day and stock Dave’s spare fridge with stuff for Laura to cook, start re-collecting cookbooks, and generally take the day for them.  As had become their tradition they watched TV for an hour and then played cards and talked before bed.

The next morning Spencer carefully brought up coffee, scones and the paper they bought the day before.  They curled up together, reading and discussing, and discussing, and discussing some more.  And somewhere between Laura’s second point of debate and her third Spencer found himself compelled to lean over and kiss her.

“Eep.”  Laura said as she smiled through the kiss.  “What are you doing?”

“You’re beautiful.”  He said.  She was sitting there in the rumpled bed in plaid flannel pants and a t-shirt that read “property of the FBI”, her hair rumpled from sleep, her mind sprinting along, easily keeping up with him.  In that moment she was the most beautiful woman in the world.  He leaned over and teased her lips apart with his once again, tasting coffee and cinnamon and walnuts on her lips.

She pushed him away long enough to set her coffee on the nightstand, then wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him back in.  “This is not me conceding the discussion.”  She murmured against his lips as she pulled him down on top of her.

“That’s all right.”

 


	58. Chapter 58

**Chapter 58**

The day after their next round of therapy appointments Spencer and Laura decided to perform the exercise requested and spend some time alone.

Before all this had happened they had both been essentially solitary creatures, interacting with and apparently affecting a remarkable number of people but never allowing themselves to be affected.  That had, understandably, changed since The Incident.  Now they were not only deeply aware of how many people they had in their lives and how important those people truly were to them but they were also now deeply enmeshed with each other.  On the one hand this was considerably healthier than their previous isolation, but on the other hand they both needed to be able to function apart if Spencer was ever to go back to work. 

So on this day they took the metro together, an experience sufficiently different to stave off any lingering sense of claustrophobia, got off at the Dupont street station, Spencer collected a nuzzling sort of hug and kiss, and they headed in opposite directions, Laura to something called a stitch and bitch at a yarn shop and Spencer to play chess.  “Dude.”  Eric said when he sat down.  “Took you long enough.”

“That’s actually called mourning.”  Spencer replied, settling in to the game.

“Sucks, man.”  Eric took his move and smacked the clock.  “I am sorry.”

“Thank you.”  Spencer replied, moving in turn.  “And thank you for the blanket, it means a lot.”  An army blanket had been hanging in the chapel that day, with no name.  Penelope said Eric had brought it, but when it came time for the reception Eric hadn’t stuck around.

“It was from all of us.  Passed the hat.” Eric made his move.

“Wow.”  Spencer found himself almost choked up; he hadn’t realized he mattered around here.  Didn’t stop him from moving though.

“Don’t get weepy on me, dude.”  Eric moved again.

* * *

 

 

The goal was two hours.  Two hours apart to start, working up to ten, which was their usual in-office day.  When they could spend ten apart he could go back to work on desk duty until she was settled in their own place, with a security system and stout locks.  Then he could go back to work.  But today was two, which gave him ample time to play a number of games and her time to settle in to whatever she was doing and get in a bit of holiday window shopping.  It was about then, when he was on his last game, that she called him.  “Spencer, I think someone is following me.”

Instantly he was on alert.  “Why?”

“I just saw a man I spotted at the station behind me.”

“That might be nothing.”  But he was moving already, she was less than a third of a mile away.  “Go into a shop, see if he follows you in or lingers outside.”

“Know where the bead shop is?  Next to the Starbucks?”

“I’m familiar.”  Straight up Connecticut.  “Can you come up with an excuse to stay in there?”  He started heading that way.

“In a bead shop?  Please.”

“I need to get off the phone.  Stay put and be careful.  I love you.”

“I love you too.”  She rang off.

The team was out of town and was too far away anyway.  So while his long legs ate up ground Spencer called someone else.

* * *

 

“Okay, what am I looking for?”  Spencer asked when he got her back on the phone.

“Black pea coat.”  Laura replied.  “Black watch cap, red scarf.”

He wasn’t hard to pick out.  He was a few doors down, looking in the window of Kramerbooks, but clearly watching the bead store.  “Okay, finish what you’re doing, come on out and head toward the circle.”

A few moments later Laura did so.  As she walked down the street the man split off and started following her.  But he only made it a few doors along, as he walked past two people got out of the car and stopped him.   “Excuse me.”  Will LaMontaigne said as he pulled back his coat to show his badge.  “I’m with DC Metro, can I talk to you a….”  He was cut short as the guy took off running.

While Will and his partner took off after the mystery man Spencer pulled Laura into Starbucks to wait.  He told himself that he was holding her to stop her shaking, even though he was shaking right along with her.

* * *

 

“Who is he?”  Hotch asked over the video link.

“Don’t know yet.”  Will replied.  “The ID he had on him was fake.”

“Have Garcia look into it.”

“She’s already working on that but your case is taking priority right now.  These two are safe, don’t worry about them.”

“I’m sending people to watch the house.”

“All right, I’ll let them know.”  After a few Will logged off and turn to where Spencer and Laura were sharing a too small seat and sipping now cold tea.  “Hotch is sending someone to watch the house.”

“I don’t understand.”  Laura said for the umpteenth time.  “Rudger is dead, Kipling never cared about us, and we can’t testify to anything involving him.  So why this now?”

“I don’t know.”  Spencer sighed for the umpteenth time.  “We’re missing too much data to determine that.”

“Garcia will get something off that ID.”  Will reassured them, “Just you wait.”

And wait they did.

 


	59. Chapter 59

**Chapter 59**

They went home that night, let the dogs out, turned on the tree and the other lights, and Laura moved into the kitchen.  “You don’t have to cook.”  Spencer said.  “We can order take out.”

Laura stopped and slumped onto a stool.  “I don’t want to be afraid.”  She said.  “I want a place where I don’t have to be afraid.”

“You don’t have to be afraid here.”  Spencer replied.  “The security system is set for everything but the back door and we’ll turn that on when we’re done with the dogs for the night.  And there are two agents sitting outside watching the house, if anything happens they’ll come in and help.”

“I know; I’m just…”

“I know.”  He said, pulling her in.  “I know.   Does feeling safe mean you have to cook?”

“No.”

“Pizza it is.  We’ll order some for the guys too.”

* * *

 

“CIA?”

The next day they all landed back at DC Metro, including the team, who had closed the case the night before, and Strauss.  Now Spencer stood there blinking at her, clearly the last to know.

“Garcia was able to trace the ID back to a batch created for the CIA.”  Hotch repeated patiently.  “Apparently the man following you is a new agent, just out of training.”

“I thought the CIA wasn’t supposed to work inside the US.”  Morgan said.

“They’re not.”  Dave replied.

“Um,” Blake got everyone’s attention.  “This may not be professional.”

“What do you mean?”  Strauss asked.

In response Blake stepped to the conference room door.  For security sake Laura had been left out of the conversation until now, but Blake invited her in.  “The man following you was a CIA operative.”

“CIA?”  Laura asked.  But it was a rhetorical question.  Spencer had never seen her that instantly furious before.  She pulled out her phone and dialed.  “Hi Dad!”  She said in a voice that got the fight off to a rousing start.

“I’ll go cut him loose.”  Will said with a sigh.

“I’ll go inform the Director.”  Strauss said.

“I’m going to get my dog and get some sleep.”  Morgan added.  Nods of agreement went around.  He turned to look at Spencer.  “Tell me how the fight turns out.”

“I will.”  This should be interesting, Spencer thought.  He went to refill his coffee and wait.

* * *

 

Thirty minutes later her father arrived at the station.  “Let me explain.”  Andrew Patterson said to open.

“Explain what?!”  Laura replied, still in fighting mode.  “How you terrified us?  How you decided to break Federal law to spy on me?  What were you thinking Dad?”

“I was worried…”

“Then why didn’t you just pick up the phone and call me?  We could have had lunch today.”

“You haven’t been acting yourself, sweetheart.  Running off with some guy….”

He watched her anger turn to ice.  “Dad, I was kidnapped.  I was locked in some freak’s basement for months on end.”

Her father plowed on ahead… “…coming home and having some church service thing…”

“I buried my daughter.”  She bit out at him, “Your granddaughter.  Karen isn’t here, Dad, could you at least let go of her lies long enough to understand that!  I named her Margaret, you know, after Grandma Mags.”

As Spencer watched Mr. Patterson quietly crumbled.  He pivoted and sat heavily into a nearby chair.  “I’m sorry, I just…”

Laura sighed and softened.  “I know.”

“She’s just so…”

“She’s mentally ill, Dad.  It’s not going to go away and she’s not going to get help.”

“I just can’t…”

“I know.  But I can’t be her scapegoat any longer.  That’s why I’ve made a life out here.  I want to stay in contact with you, if I can but I can’t be around her.  Especially not now.”

“I know.”  Andrew took a deep breath.  “I’m sorry you had to go through that all alone.”

“I wasn’t alone.  Spencer was with me.”

“Who?”

Laura smiled.  “The ‘guy’ I ran off with, Maggie’s father.”  She took her father’s hand and pulled him over to Spencer.  “Andrew Patterson, Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Mr. Patterson looked at him, blinking.  “Not the Dr. Reid who wrote…”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“And the…”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“And the formula for…”

“Mmm-hmm.”  Spencer had some vague idea that he ought to ask permission to marry Mr. Patterson’s daughter or something.  But after everything that had happened he simply did not see the need.

“Well, I um…”  Mr. Patterson looked down at his daughter.  “I had no idea.  I thought…”

“You believed Karen’s lies because it’s the only way to protect yourself.”  Laura nodded.  “I do understand Dad.”

“Are you two getting married then?”

Spencer watched Laura’s defensive walls go up.  “If we do I can’t have Karen there.”  She said.  “I won’t.  She’ll ruin everything.”

Her father nodded.  “I’m sure we can work around that.”  He said before patting her hand.  “Clearly I have a great deal to make up for here.  If you two are willing, I think I’d like to say good-by to my granddaughter.”

* * *

 

After a visit to Maggie’s grave, always a peaceful pilgrimage for him and Laura, Spencer ended up having dinner with his future wife and future-father-in-law.  He listened to the gentle stories; saw the number of times Laura had to correct her father when he confused reality with Karen’s broken way of seeing the world.  And he saw the kind of pain that a Narcissist can inflict and the kind of resilience it took to survive it.  And through their memories he learned more about Laura’s long gone but still much loved mother.

In the end Mr. Patterson turned at the curb where they were catching taxis back to Dave’s and to his hotel.  “I know you haven’t asked for it.”  He said, looking at the two of them, “I suppose it’s beyond that now, but you do have my blessing.”

Laura blinked at him a long moment.  “Wow.”  She said, stepping in to hug him hard.  “Thanks Dad.  I love you.”

“I love you too sweetheart.”  He looked over at Spencer and offered his hand.  “Take care of her, hard head that she is.”

“I will, sir.”  He accepted the hand and the gesture offered.

Once in the taxi Laura settled against him.  “This doesn’t mean he’s entirely back in my life.”  She warned him.  “He can’t be, not with Karen there.”

“Yeah, but at least he’s not entirely out of it either.”  Spencer said as he held her close.

“Yeah.”


	60. Chapter 60

**Chapter 60**

A few days later Morgan came over for breakfast.  “I found the perfect house.”  He said.

“Oh?”  Spencer asked as Morgan joined them at the table.

“A friend of a friend, Jimmy, is selling it.  He was trying to restore it, intending to live there, but he lost his job and his mother-in-law’s sick.  They have to move back to Philly and they need to sell.  They already sold their home; this place is the only thing holding them here.”

“What’s it like?”  Laura asked.

* * *

 

Later that morning they were standing in front of the house in question.  It was one of three row houses, tucked into a quiet corner of North Cleveland Park, only a few blocks from Spencer’s old apartment, a quiet, good, upper-middle class neighborhood.  The three houses had been build in 1918, were done in a quasi-Tudor style, four stories if you counted the ‘garden’ apartment that was slightly below grade.  The one they were looking at was the one on the end, with the most windows and the most light.  “You said the bottom apartment is rented?”

“Yeah, an assistant professor over at UDC,” Jimmy said.  “I’ve been living in the top floor apartment.  The main house is still unfinished.  Come on in and take a look.”

They started with the garden floor, and a pleasant fellow who would make a good neighbor.  That apartment was solid and well cared for, so they took a look at the main portion of the building.  It was down to studs.  “I finished roughing in the electrical and the plumbing.”  Jimmy said.  “It was all inspected.”

“Is this the original woodwork?”  Laura asked.

“And the original glass and brasses, on every floor but the garden,” Jimmy told her.  “The only ones that need replacing are the ones in the kitchen.”

Spencer stepped back while Laura, Jimmy and Morgan started talking restoration.  There was a stair hall as well as a spiral staircase to the second floor in the corner of the living room.  The dining room had been partially opened to the large kitchen space, which had a bay window overlooking a good sized yard in the back and a small area in the corner that would make a tidy office space.  Upstairs there was space for another tiny office as well as two smaller bedrooms, a larger master, and two full baths.  Figure in the powder room on the main floor and a small mudroom at the bottom of the stair hall and the space was complete, modest and yet with enough hard work his family could be comfortable here.

Eventually everyone wandered back his way.  “Want to go see the upstairs?”  Jimmy asked.

The upstairs space was a perfect little aerie.  The large windows looked out into the tops of the trees on the property, and like the ones downstairs were trimmed with panels of stained glass.  There was a living room, a small bath, a kitchen that might just be big enough, a bedroom and a small side room that he could use for an office.  “The rent on the downstairs apartment pays for the mortgage.”  Jimmy told them.  “And this place would pay for the taxes, insurance and utilities when you moved downstairs.  That’s what I intended but I don’t have the cash to put into fixing it up any more.”

“So how much are we talking?”  Morgan asked.

Spencer kind of tuned them out for a bit.  He and Laura had decided that she would buy the house in her name, using a portion of her inheritance, and then he would pay her the same rent as his apartment to cover what wasn’t covered by the apartment downstairs and the cost of fixing the place up.  When they married she would put his name on it as well, that way in the end they would be equally invested.

By the time they were done talking the deal looked good.  Pending inspections and other paperwork, in about two weeks the house would be theirs and Jimmy would be off to join his family.  “You are going to help us with this?”  Spencer said to Morgan.

“You do know you have to help with the work.”  Morgan shot back.

Spencer rolled his eyes but inwardly he was smiling.  This was going to be fun.

* * *

 

With a date for moving out of Dave’s house right after the holiday Spencer and Laura relaxed.  They continued to work with their respective therapists, but otherwise they settled down to enjoying the holiday.  They went to the tree lighting with the rest of the team so the kids could enjoy the lights.  They went to the various museums and historical homes in the area to enjoy the decorations and get ideas for their house.  On snowy days Laura baked an excess of cookies that Dave took into the office and Spencer got the department caught up on their paperwork.  Gifts started appearing under the tree, Spencer suspected knitting for him, and in return he let Garcia drag him off to the yarn and quilt shops for kits and tools and silly things that would make Laura smile.

It was, in the end, a holiday season to remember.

One night as he was closing the curtains Spencer looked out and noticed someone sitting in their car watching the house.  Mr. Patterson, he decided, or maybe Strauss.  It’s a sign that they care, that we matter.  He smiled a little, shut the blinds, and went to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part 3


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 4 – Acceptance
> 
> The greatest gift that you can give to others is the gift of unconditional love and acceptance.  
> \- Brian Tracy

**Chapter 61**

Six weeks after the New Year, nearly three months after his rescue, Spencer Reid was finally cleared and ready to go back in the field.  “Cuff me.”  He said to Blake as she walked past his desk that morning.

“What?”

“I finally finished physical therapy on my hand.  Cuff me.”  Spencer offered up his wrists, pleadingly.

“No.”

Spencer sighed and turned to his other desk mate, “JJ?”

JJ sighed deeply.  “If I don’t will you leave it alone?”  Spencer shook his head.  “All right.”  She came around the desk and cuffed Spencer’s hands behind him.  “Now what?”

“Hold on.”  Spencer replied, wiggling slightly in his seat.  “Statistically being a member of the BAU has one of the highest risks for kidnapping or being held hostage in the country…”

“…and your experiences skew the numbers….”

“…so knowing a bit of magic is potentially useful.”  He handed her back her open cuffs.

JJ stared at them a moment.  “Okay, how did you do that?  I thought your thumb healed.”

He smiled, “Magic.”

She groaned and took the cuffs off is finger.  “Oh, I hate it when you do that,” she said as she went back to her desk.

Spencer just smiled as he tucked his handcuff key back into the slit in the back of his belt and went back to work.  He had lost a noticeable amount of grip strength in that hand since his injury, but as it was his non-dominant hand it was manageable.  It didn’t interfere with his shooting ability, which was his most notable concern, and he had yet to find anything short of manhandling wood and other heavy items around the house that was difficult, and for that he wore a brace.  Surgery would restore full functionality to those tendons, but then he wouldn’t be able to slip cuffs like he could now.  For him it was an acceptable trade off.

“So is Laura okay with you going back in the field?”  Blake asked.

“She claims to be, and every indication supports that.  We have a security system in place on the house and Stuart is right downstairs if there’s any kind of crisis.”  Stuart, adjutant professor at Howard Law, worked at a free legal clinic, openly homosexual not that it mattered.  So far he’d been an outstanding tenant and neighbor and was quickly becoming a kind of casual friend. 

“Not worried about her being bored while you’re gone?”

“Between the course she’s teaching at UDC, that project she’s working on with Tonya, the classes at the textile shop and the house she’ll probably only realize I’m gone in the evenings.”

“I thought Tonya was still at Cornell.”  Blake said.

“The project is part of her graduate theses.”

“What is Laura teaching?”  JJ asked.

“Home economics.  Apparently with the ongoing downturn in the economy and a lot of the current trends in the gourmet world there’s been a renewed interest in things like household financial management, basic cooking and food preservation, household and textile repair, that sort of thing.  UDC decided to try a class at their community college, she got the position and it filled up it about three days.  She has a waiting list.  She and Tonya are trying to set up a program to cover the same ground in a series of smaller courses at community centers, specifically targeting people on government assistance programs, Laura’s handling curriculum while Tonya is working with grant money and public acceptance.”

“Public acceptance?”  JJ asked.

“I’m guessing something about upper class college kids thinking they know better than the locals and trying to tell them how to live their lives while destroy their native cultures.”  Blake replied.

Spencer nodded, “Except as Laura points out most native cultures and cuisines don’t have a problem working within a budget.  It’s when you think that ‘native cuisine’ means Pop-tarts and Chicken McNuggets that you have a problem.  It helps that the community center they’re working with is in Tonya’s old neighborhood.”

“What is she teaching at the textile shop?”  JJ asked.

Spencer opened his mouth to answer but sat there a moment.  “I honestly have no idea.  The colors are pretty though.”

That got him chuckles.  “How is the house going?” 

“We have walls.”  They’d put the boards up themselves over an exhausting week-end, but hired someone else to tape and mud, whatever that meant.  “We should be painting…at some point.”

JJ was grinning.  “No clue, do you?”

“Not at all.  I, you know, lift, hold.”  Do what Morgan and Laura told him.  Sometimes he provided input between two or three options.  Apparently some aspect of the kitchen was going to be white because he thought black in a kitchen was too dreary.  Eventually it would be a lovely home. 

“Is she going to be able to keep all that up once the baby comes?”  Blake asked with a smile.  “Assuming you two are still planning that.”

“We are.  The only thing she plans to keep working on at that point is the project with Tonya and that’s something she can work on from home.”

“Ah.”

Movement caught his eye, so he looked up in time to see Garcia walking a file to Hotch’s office.   Of course.  “So, where do you think we’re going this time?”  Blake asked.

“Not someplace warm.”  JJ replied.

* * *

 

By the time he finally got to bed in Minot, North Dakota it was about the time the early rising Laura was having her first coffee.  Spencer stretched out in the bed, propped his tablet, and started pinging her video conference line.  When the connection opened she was sitting there in her favorite morning spot, curled up in a ridiculously large rocker she’d insisted upon, hair mussed, still in her ‘Property of the FBI’ pajamas, knitting in her lap.  He knew that there was a coffee mug somewhere nearby, and that she had been listening to the news and watching the day begin.  “Good morning.”  He said as he lay down.  “Did you sleep well?”

“No.  This place is too empty.  We need pets.”  She replied.  “How did you sleep?”

“I haven’t yet.”  He admitted, yawning.  “I wanted to talk to you first.  Not a dog.”  By now he knew that she tended to be very efficient once decisions were made.

“Why not a dog?”

“They don’t like me.  And I’m honestly afraid of them.  And JJ is terrified of them; I don’t want her to be afraid to come around.”

“Okay, what about cats?”

They discussed the merits of cats until he fell asleep.

* * *

 

Four days later he walked in to the simple, homey smells of dinner cooking.  There was chicken baking in that smell, he thought, and potatoes boiling, and a faint tinge of garlic that said that they would be mashed, and perhaps there would be green beans involved.  “I’m home.”  He said as he put down his bags and coat.

Laura stuck her head out of the kitchen and smiled.  “Welcome home.”  She said.  “We missed you.”

He grinned as he walked over to collect his kiss and hug.  “We?” 

She nodded to a new basket, over by the fire, full of odd looking mounds of creamy fur.  He walked over and started stroking them.  Immediately two bewhiskered faces popped up, blinked sleepy blue eyes at him and started sniffing the new person.  “Meet Archie and Oliver.”  She said.  “Siamese, rag doll crosses.  The rescue group had a litter.”

He started scratching a head, and the purring started.  “Nice to meet you,” he said to them, “Welcome home.”


	62. Chapter 62

**Chapter 62**

Spring gradually took over February.

Somehow Laura managed to organize all her different responsibilities and still plan a wedding.  It probably helped that it was a destination affair, and so she was just picking out packages.  He knew from listening in that there would be western wildflowers involved somehow, and that she had staved off complaints that her dress was too simple by showing the intricate lace veil/shawl that Martha had left her and saying that she didn’t want to compete, and that Tonya was wearing plum satin, and that he and Morgan just had to show up in good suits.  He knew that Garcia was helping with the planning and Rossi was helping with the dinner after and that if Karen did show up Hotch and Blake were going to keep her from causing too much trouble.

His only responsibility was getting his Mom there and he and Dr. Norman already had a plan.  She wanted to be off her meds for the day because they had a mild amnesiac effect and she wanted to remember, so they were sending two aids with her just in case.  She would have a corsage, of course, and a seat of honor at the front of the chapel, and something special to wear.  Of course she balked at him buying her a formal dress for the occasion, spending all that money, so instead he was buying her a new skirt and top in styles she liked, so she could wear them for the first time that day and then later to good use.  While he finished placing the order on line Oliver draped himself over his shoulder, meowed his approval of the color, and started purring noisily in his ear.

“Chocolate cake is your favorite, yes?”  Laura asked from her computer.

“Yes.”

“I’m trying to decide on a filling.  The list is long,”

Spencer considered wedding cakes he had known as he removed Archie from the keyboard.  “What’s the red fruity stuff?”

“Usually raspberry or strawberry.  Could do strawberry puree with whipped cream.”

“Ooo.”  That sounded tasty.  He sighed as Archie climbed up and over his other shoulder.

“I’ll take that as a yes.  It’s not going to be overly fancy, you know.  I never liked the taste of too much butter cream.”

“That’s fine.”

“Oh, but they can do fresh flowers….”

“That would be nice too.  Do we have one of those statue things for the top?”

“Yes, Penelope is having one made for us, so, you know, looks like us, more or less.  Starting our lives together.”

“Oh?”

“Heading in to the TARDIS.”

“Outstanding.”  It was kind of hard to hear over the purring.  “Can they do one of those big, rectangle cakes to kinda match?”

“A sheet cake?  Probably.  Why?”

“I doubt Mom will make the reception, I was going to send it to Bennington so she can have wedding cake with her friends.”

“Oh, we can do that.”

The whole thing went like that.

* * *

 

Everything was going swimmingly until they were out on a case in Topeka and he got a panicked phone call.  “Spencer,” Laura said, sounding more than a little hysterical.  “Someone broke into our house!”

That distracted him from the case at hand.  “What?  What happened?”

“Martin was coming in to finish the work and he spotted some strange man coming down the stairs.”  Martin was their plumber.  “He chased after him but he jumped into the back of a truck and they drove off.  He went to look and the apartment door was open, so he called the police and he called me.”

“Is Will there?”  Robbery would go to DC Metro.

“He’s on his way.  I don’t know what to do.”

“Do what Will tells you.  It’s his job and he’s very good at it.”

“But why would someone break into our house?”

“Robbery, probably.  Just follow Will’s lead and if I need to come home I will.”

“All right.”

* * *

 

Spencer didn’t need to rush home.  Even though nothing was missing the bedroom had been rifled through like someone was looking for valuables.  The obvious answer was that someone had thought that a house under construction was an easy mark, and that Martin had interrupted a robbery.  “Now I feel silly.”  Laura said on the phone that night. 

“No, you’re not being silly.  It’s a violation and it’s scary.  I’m just glad no harm was done.  Are the doors locked?”

“Yes.”

“Is the security system set?”

“Yes.”

“Are you in bed?”

“Yes”

“Archie and Oliver with you?”

Spencer could hear her starting to laugh over the phone.  “Yes, bed hogs that they are.”

“Good.  If this last lead pans out I should be home by bedtime tomorrow.  I love you, you know.”

“I love you too.”

* * *

 

The next night Laura came before he did, as he always made certain she did, but as he thrust hard and let himself go her eyes opened wide and dilated and her nails dug into her back and she came again, harder than she had in a long time.  “Ohhhh!”  She shrieked as she finally fell back to the mattress, gasping to catch her breath before erupting in a wild fit of the giggles.

He grinned and nuzzled gently at her temple.  “Liked that then?”  She nodded since she couldn’t stop laughing.  “I guess you’re finally getting used to the condoms.”  While he had only noticed a minimal difference between covered and not she insisted that it just wasn’t as good and she couldn’t wait for unprotected sex again.

“I guess so.”  She gasped out, letting go so he could roll and dispose of it before pulling her back into his arms.  “That was amazing.”

“Good to know.”  Take that Morgan, he thought, as he reached over and turned out the light.

 


	63. Chapter 63

**Chapter 63**

The wedding was perfect.

It was a lovely March day in Vegas.  The weather was warm but not as punishingly hot as it would get later in the year.  It would be perfect for taking pictures after the wedding.  Spencer shifted a little as everyone milled around in front of the church, talking.  Any wedding in Vegas was kitchy, it was almost a given, but at least this small church had the weight of history behind it.  It was the oldest still standing, done in redwood and pine in that 1940’s ‘western’ style, and was on the National Historic Register.  In Vegas that counted for historical gravitas.  Perhaps more importantly it had seen one Julia McKinney marry one Andrew Patterson many years ago, and one Diana Campbell marry one William Reid.  Now it was their turn.  Spencer shifted again, they were waiting on one very important guest, their main reason for doing this out here, and she was running just a little bit late.

Soon enough the van pulled out and a familiar tall, slender figure was helped from the car, surprisingly by another tall, slender figure.  Spencer shook off the shock and went over to meet them, “Dad?”

“Hello son.”  William Reid said with a sheepish smile.  “Congratulations.”

“Um, thank you.”  Spencer had no idea what to say.  “I tried to call…”

“I know, I just….”

“I invited him, as my guest.”  Diana said firmly.  “He’s your father, he should be here.  Oh, look at you.”  She reached out and pulled him in to a hug.  “So handsome in that suit.  I still like the shorter hair.”

“Thanks.  Um, do you want to come meet everybody?  I think you know a few of them already.”

“I’d like to meet Laura’s parents, if they’re free.”

“Um,” Spencer sighed.  “They couldn’t make it.”

“What?”  Diana blinked in surprise.  “How could they not make their daughter’s wedding?”

“It’s…complicated.”  As soon as Laura had told her father her step-mother had announced that they were supposed to be on a cruise, that it had been scheduled for months, that Laura should have involved them so they wouldn’t have scheduled anything, and so on.  Lies, of course, all of it, but her father had given in.

“Well that’s awful.  Is she all right?”

“Yeah.  She kind of expected it.”  Laura had been disappointed, but she hadn’t let it stop her.  She’d also been feeling under the weather the past few days for some reason, but she hadn’t let that stop her either.  “Some of her friends from Cornel made it out, the rest are watching via an online feed.”  She’d even sent a cake to Sterling House so her former quilting group could be a part of her day.

“Oh still.”  Diana turned to her husband.  “She is a darling girl.  I met her when they came out, oh, was it in January?  We had a lovely talk.  Very intelligent, I think he’s made an excellent choice.”

“Good to know.”  William replied, nodding.  “Shall we?”

Spencer offered his mother his arm and escorted her to the chapel.

* * *

 

When it was time for the whole thing to start Spencer found himself standing at the head of the chapel next to Morgan, watching Tonya walk down the aisle toward them.  It wasn’t that he was nervous, his head just felt all swimmy.   “You have the rings, right?”  He whispered down to Henry.  Henry looked back at him and nodded.

“You okay?”  Morgan whispered.

“Yeah, I’m…”  But then the organist went into Here Comes the Bride and everyone stood and watched Laura walk in on Rossi’s arm.  She glowed like an ember in her white dress, wrapped in that delicate lace, her arms full of western wildflowers.  In that moment she absolutely took his breath away.

When the Justice of the Peace asked who brought the bride to be married Dave looked around, chuckled and replied “I think we all do.”

* * *

 

Afterwards Rossi took them all to a very nice restaurant, one that also had a dance floor.  There were only about thirty or so people in the party so they all fit around a large table.  It was a huge extended family coming together, laughing and sharing and celebrating their finding each other.  The best part was that his parents managed to stay for most of it, and share in the rich memory they were making.

  After dinner they danced, of course.  Not that his knee let him do much, but he did manage a slow box step with his mother, and with Emily who had come all the way from London, and JJ and Penelope.  And of course a number of times with Laura in his arms.

The cake was as tasty as he’d hoped.

After he stepped to the dance floor with Laura in his arms once again and realized that this really was one of the happiest days of his life.  The only day better was the one day of Maggie’s life.  Thank you, he thought to her.  This is all because of you.

* * *

 

Later that night, after they’d had time to rest, they celebrated in a manner as old as time.  This time there was something sweeter and richer in the experience.  It wasn’t until it was over that he realized what it was.  “My wife,” he said as he cupped her cheek as if tasting the words for the first time.

“Mmm-hmmm,” she said with a soft, sated smile as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.  “Forever now.  Death us do part and all that.”

That just made it wonderful.

* * *

 

The next morning Spencer woke to the desert dawn streaming in the windows.  He sensed Laura waking next to him.  “Good morning, he said as he rolled over to nuzzle.  She rolled over in response, opened her eyes and looked into his, as if she was about to bid him good morning in return.  But then her eyes took on a desperate, frightened cast and he swore later her skin actually went a sallow sort of green.  “Are you….”

Nope, she wasn’t.  Before she could answer his question, she bolted from the bed, ran to the bathroom, and was noisily sick.

Oh boy.


	64. Chapter 64

**Chapter 64**

“Not possible.”  Laura insisted.

They had come home early from their honeymoon claiming she was ill, vowing to go back later to visit Diana again.  They had come home to their aerie apartment, dropped their bags, and then gone right out again to pick up a pregnancy test.  Now they were waiting impatiently for the results while Archie and Oliver curled up on the bed, oblivious.  “Possible.”  Spencer replied.  “You said you’re late.”

“That’s the stress of the wedding.”

“You’ve been sick the past two mornings.”

“Something I ate.”

“You’re exhausted.”

“Stress again.”

“And your breasts are warm and sore.”

Laura groaned and fell back on the bed, disturbing the cats who promptly moved to sit on her.  “This can’t be happening.  We’ve been too careful.”

“Yes, well, we must have made a mistake somewhere.”  Spencer stretched out next to her, giving Oliver his own bed warmer.  “Why are you fighting this so hard?”

“We were supposed to wait another six weeks!”

“True, but it’s not that big of a deal.  You’ll have a slightly higher risk of osteoporosis when you’re older.  You’ll need to be more careful with your diet and you’ll need to be certain to exercise daily, neither of which is all that difficult out here.  It’s not ideal but it’s not that bad, women have had back-to-back pregnancies before and been fine.”

Laura groaned.  “But what will the midwife say?  What will our friends say?”

Spencer smiled even as he winced.  Social interaction was always the most difficult aspect of life.  The one good thing about their imprisonment had been that the pregnancy had been entirely theirs.  They had been able to celebrate and savor it without considering the court of public opinion.  Now everything was different.  “I hate to say it but in this case I don’t care.  I’m thrilled about being a father again, and if they think we’re rushing it then that’s their problem.  Besides, we don’t even know…”

Laura checked her watch.  “It’s been five minutes.”

 Spencer rolled, heedless of the cats and held up the stick, the stick that bore two clear lines.  They both started at it for a long moment, and then Spencer watched as his wife’s face broke into a smile as radiant as the sun.  He laughed and kissed her and slid his hand under her waistband to the still flat place that was holding a miracle.  “Hi.”  He said.  “Welcome home.”

* * *

 

“The question is.”  Dave said.  “Are you two happy?”

Spencer was downstairs helping Morgan hold a something against another something that would eventually be a window.  He had no clue exactly what was involved, he was taking it one direction at a time.  Dave was supervising the work while Laura and Penelope were out shopping for something or other for the baby.  “Yes, we are.  It’s a little sooner than we planned, but we’re working with it. I just don’t see how it happened.”

Morgan grinned at him.  “You’ve made two babies and you don’t know how it happened.”

“Well…no…I…”  How did Morgan manage to embarrass him every time like this?  “I meant that we’ve been trying to be very careful.”

“Any guy can make a mistake.”

Rossi considered this.  “You know, I would believe that for anyone else.”

“Good point.”  Morgan conceded.  “So one failed.  It happens.”

“Rarely.”  Rossi replied.  He held up a hand as he looked over at Spencer.  “Do not quote me the statistics, just tell me if you went where I told you or did you get them at the gas station or something.”

“No, I bought…can I let go now?”  Morgan nodded so Spencer sprinted upstairs, coming back with a sample, treating it like evidence without thinking.  “I went to that place on U Street the first time but they aren’t open on Sundays so I ordered a big box off of Amazon.”  And how did he get to the point that he needed to buy condoms by the big box, or that he was comfortable admitting that to his friends?  Right, marriage.

“I have heard good things about that brand.”  Morgan nodded.  “Very reliable.  Not my size though.”

Rossi had picked one up and was looking it over.  “Very reliable.  Do you have a scissors?” 

“I have a knife.”

Spencer ran upstairs again, coming back with the pair from his desk.  “What have you found?”

“Not sure yet,” Rossi started carefully opening the little foil packet around the edges.  “Remember that intruder you had?”

“Yeah?”

“You said your plumber caught him coming down the stairs?” 

“Yeah.” 

“So he was leaving, he got what he wanted.  But nothing was taken.”

“That’s right.  And nothing was left.”

“Yes.  But it looks like something was altered.”  Rossi trimmed away three edges and set the condom on a nearby table.  Then he opened the packet like a book and held it up to the window.

Spencer stared dumfounded at the light coming through the pin holes in the foil.

Morgan stared himself for a minute, then picked up the condom and took it to the kitchen sink.  He held it over the tap and partially filled it with water before holding it up, pinching it closed like a balloon.  As they watched water sprayed out the end like a sprinkler.

“I guess someone got impatient.”  Rossi said.

Spencer sat weakly on the nearest suitable surface.  Sabotage.  Someone had broken in to their home to sabotage their birth control so Laura would get pregnant.  He remembered how she started acting differently during the act, like they were having unprotected sex again.  He’d thought she was just getting used to the barrier.  “Why?  Who?”

“The logical answer to the last question is Kipling Harris.”  Rossi asked.  “He’s at large and has the money to pay for someone to do this and has been involved from the beginning.  Why is still a mystery, but it might have to do with his wife getting full custody and a restraining order.”

“Yeah, but why them again?”  Morgan asked.

“They must still fit the profile of the genes he wants in a child.”

“But why not take them like last time?”

“Why?  Harris isn’t the control freak Rudger was, he knows that Laura profiled as a careful and considerate mother, she’s not going to do anything that would risk the child.  Hell, she’ll go out of her way to have a perfect pregnancy.  Why go through all the trouble to hide her away and look after her when the police are looking for him?”

“Of course,” Morgan agreed.  “He doesn’t want her, he wants the baby.”

Spencer felt the world stop spinning.

“If it’s a boy,” Rossi agreed.  “In the meantime it would be a lot easier for him just to keep an eye on everyone and let these two go through all the trouble of managing the pregnancy for him.  We thought the people that keep popping up as watching them were all CIA, his in-laws, but we might have been wrong about that.”

“No.”  Spencer said.  He was still back on want the baby.  “Not in this lifetime.”

“I agree.”  Rossi replied.  “But he’s not going to make a move until the baby is viable without medical intervention.  We have time to work something out.”

“What do I tell Laura?”

“The truth, but gently.  And make sure she knows we’ll keep her and the baby safe.”

Spencer could only hope they could keep that promise.


	65. Chapter 65

**Chapter 65**

Once Laura got over her initial panic everything kind of subsided.  They knew that Harris wasn’t going to do anything until Laura was at 37 weeks, which meant that they had months before they had to worry about anything.

The midwife clucked a little but accepted the story of a condom tear without question.  She prescribed a vitamin supplement and a healthy diet and regular walks, just as they expected, and sent them on their way.  Laura was in all other ways healthy, there was no reason for them to expect any health problems with this pregnancy.

Even though the midwife told her to avoid all process sugar Spencer always kept a lemon cheesecake in the fridge.  They went through a lot of them.

It did not escape them that this baby would be due within days of Maggie’s due date.  Not that they thought it was Maggie coming back, this was someone completely new in their lives.  But perhaps a guardian angel was telling them something.

At the end of the term she told UDC that she would not be teaching the Home Ec class in the fall, as she was due almost exactly at the end of that term.  She did agree to advise on curriculum with them provided she could work from home.  She planned to continue to work on curriculum for the community center as well.  She kept up her work at the textile shop, and planned to right up until her due date, mostly because it gave a chance to socialize with other women.  She’d already joined Penelope’s knitting group and by the summer had a thriving circle of friends.

Spencer continued to work, of course, doing the usual work of the BAU.  At first he was nervous about leaving her alone, but after the first few cases their profile seemed to be bearing out, no one bothered her at all.  So he relaxed and focused and continued to stop bad guys.  But now he came home to a comfortable home and meals cooked with love and a growing little miracle that he already adored.

In late May they finished the house.  It was more open than the original builders intended, with an archway between the living room and dining room, and only a counter framed in another arch between that and the kitchen.  But somehow Morgan had kept all the original woodwork and stained glass so it managed to keep that Gilded Age air that he and Laura both loved.  Spencer took the small office space upstairs so he could spread out case files, while Laura took the one off the kitchen, with lots of light and a view of the backyard.   And in that backyard they planted vegetables and fruit trees and from the big, old oak they planned to hang a swing.

Archie and Oliver were thrilled to have the space, once they got over their nerves about it.  They hit feline adolescence with the power of a thousand suns, romping up and down the stairs, in and out of hiding places, up and over anything they could climb.  The spiral staircase in the dining room was an especially enjoyable place for the furry members of the household to lie in wait, more than once Spencer walked by, his mind on other things, only to get a bop on the head from a furry paw.  They also liked to go after his shoe laces and flop on his books while he was trying to read and attack Laura’s yarn while she tried to knit.  Of course no one said anything, they were simply adored.

Laura was knitting baby things again, only this time she wasn’t pretending to buy yarn for other things or other people.  This time it was all bright, rainbow colors of yarn and fabric for quilts, despite the gentle, butter color she chose for the nursery walls.  “I’m not hiding my interest this time.”  She said, one lazy Sunday morning as they rested in bed and drank hot drinks and listening to the news while the cats attacked their toes under the sheet.  “I’m celebrating.  My life is exactly what I want it to be.”

Spencer smiled as Archie attacked his teasing fingers.  These lazy Sunday mornings were what he had wanted in his life for so long.  They helped make his life exactly what he wanted it to be.  “Good to know.”

* * *

 

June came, and around the middle of it Garcia brought three mugs full of lollipops to the office.  She left one on Hotch’s desk and one on Spencer’s.  “What, none for me?”  Morgan asked.

“They’re for Father’s Day.”  She replied.  “Last I heard you were still practicing.”

Morgan chuckled, then caught the look on Spencer face.  “What?”

Spencer pulled the lollipop out of his mouth.  “I’m just remembering how quickly we made Maggie.”

“So?”

Garcia caught it and grinned.  “Some people need practice, some people are naturally gifted.”

Morgan’s jaw dropped as the entire pod started laughing.  “Oh you did not go there.  You did not go there.”

Just then Rossi walked up.  Garcia handed him a mug full of lollipops, pronouncing him the World’s Best Grandpa.  “I hope that’s okay.”  She said.

Rossi smiled in that way of his that was very real.  “It is.  Thank you very much,” He even kissed her cheek for it.

Spencer smiled around his lollipop.  It was more than okay, it was kind of perfect.

* * *

 

The following week Tonya moved in to the aerie apartment.  “I could live with my sister.”  She said.  “But I’d have to kill her within the month.  Besides, this way I’m close enough to help with the baby.  And it’s not like we didn’t live in the same house for years.”

They drafted Morgan to help with the hauling of boxes upstairs, and afterward sat down to take-out.  “So we’ve been meaning to ask you two something.”  Laura said once they sat down.  She looked at Spencer, who nodded his final approval.  “Godparents?”

“I would be honored.”  Morgan said, clapping Spencer on the shoulder.

“Of course,” Tonya said, hugging Laura tight,

After dinner as they did dishes Spencer looked over at Morgan.  “So why haven’t you asked her out yet?”

Morgan looked back over at the living room where the ladies were talking, “Maybe I’m taking Laura’s advice.”  He took a sip of his beer.  “Besides, you make settling down look good.”

Oh

* * *

 

July came and with it the twenty week ultrasound.  Spencer held Laura’s hand as the tech pressed the machine down on her distended stomach.  “Of course we’ll have to wait for final word from the doctor but everything looks spot on healthy.”  The tech said.  “Want to know what you’re having?”

Spencer looked at Laura.  They had been discussing this for days.  If it was a girl would they worry that she would somehow die because Maggie did?  If it was a boy would they be even more paranoid about Harris?  They had gone around and around, but in the end there was only one solution.  “No.”  Laura said, “We want to be surprised.”

“All right.”

* * *

 

Summer moved into fall.  Life moved on pleasantly, with all the love and comfort he ever wanted. 

As Laura got close to her due date Hotch assigned a protective detail to stay with her constantly, just in case.  But throughout the summer no one had seen or heard one peep out of Kipling Harris, or anyone else who could have threatened them.  There was simply nothing at all.

Finally, one year to the day from the day that Maggie started making her way into the world Spencer and the team were walking in to the office, on their way back from another miserable case, when his phone rang.  “Where are you?”  Laura said, her voice sparkling with excitement and fear.  “Are you still in the air?”

“No, we’re at the office.  Why?”

“My water just broke.”

Oh.  _Shit_.

Hotch gently took the phone from his hands.  “Have Anderson drive you to the hospital.”  He said quietly.  “We’ll get him there.”

* * *

 

Twelve hours later Spencer was standing in the birth center, bearing all of his wife’s weight while she focused on the task at hand.  For the second time in their lives he watched as she lifted her head up and groaned as she pushed, putting everything she had into the effort.  She was hot and sweaty and pale with exhaustion and pain and as he watched, she somehow became more radiant than the sun.

There was a brief flurry of sound and then a brand new cry was heard the world.  For a moment Spencer swore he felt the brush of angel’s wings.

“I’ll take that.”  A deep, male voice said.

Spencer looked away from the beauty in Laura’s eyes and found himself looking down the barrel of a gun.


	66. Chapter 66

**Chapter 66**

Harris had lost weight, Spencer realized, and he had shaved off his distinctive facial hair and had grown out what hair he had and combed it back into a ponytail.  He was standing there in scrubs, with a hospital ID attached, pointing a gun right at his nose.  Christ, how?  There were two agents at the door and half the team outside, how?

They had, of course, carefully vetted the midwife.  She’d worked with Alex’s husband James for Médecins Sans Frontières for a few years and as a result was utterly unflappable.  “I can’t cut the cord until it finishes pulsing.”  She said calmly.

Harris growled out his impatience.  “Fine.  In the meantime why don’t one of you secure the good doctor here?”  He held up a set of cuffs.  “I don’t want him getting any ideas.”

One of the nurses came and cuffed Spencer’s hands behind his back while the other caught Laura.  Then they started easing her back on the bed.  “Why?”  Spencer asked drawing Harris' attention on to him as he slowly backed in the direction of his overnight bag.  “You were never part of Rudger’s original plan.  You didn’t care about us back then.  Why now?”

“Because he’s dead,” Harris said keeping his weapon trained on the person he was speaking to, showing his lack of experience.  “And he was my friend for years.  Only man I ever trusted.  The child he commissioned….”

“Commissioned!”  Spencer couldn’t help that, he was distracted by the pain of popping his thumb back out of joint so he could slip one hand free of the cuffs.

“…is all that’s left.  I knew this sow here was well chosen, she did a good job in breeding, now it’s up to me to honor his memory by raising him right.”  He looked down at the baby, still down between Laura’s legs.  Hopefully she was too out of it to remember this part.  “It stopped pulsing.  Hurry up.”  Out of time the midwife set about clamping and cutting the cord.

Spencer waited for three agonizingly long heartbeats until the baby was free and then snatched the gun from his bag and pointed it at Kipling’s nose.  “Drop it!”  He said.  Sure enough Harris' attention and his gun were instantly on him, giving the midwife the chance to run from the room, the baby in her arms.  Thank heaven.  “I said drop it!”

“Uh-uh.”  Harris replied.  “One of you bitches get on the phone and tell her to bring that back or you’re not walking out of here.”

But the nurses didn’t move.  They stayed where they were shielding Laura.  Instead the curtain rattled back and Hotch and JJ were standing there, their weapons pointed at Harris.  “FBI!”  Hotch said.  “Drop your weapon!”

Harris turned, looked at them, and pointed his gun at Laura.

A barrage of gunfire filled the room.

* * *

 

It was an hour before things calmed down enough for Spencer to stop thinking like an agent.

The team stepped back as Harris' body was rolled out to the coroner’s van.  “He started working here right after you two signed on with the midwife program.”  Rossi said.  “Under an assumed name, of course.  Started out in housekeeping.  He actually went to classes to become a floor tech, what they used to call an orderly, just to maintain the cover.”

“That is one patient Unsub.”  Morgan pointed out.

“That’s how he was able to get around security.”  Blake pointed out.  “They let employees through.  He hid the gun in a pile of supplies.”

Hotch hung up the phone.  “Garcia said that it looks like he hacked the records system to get to the ultrasound report, so he’d know if he was getting what Rudger wanted this time.  She’s on her way.”

Spencer blinked at him slowly as his world started to shift again.  “You mean…”

“You don’t know?”  Rossi asked.

“I haven’t had a chance to see the baby yet.”  Spencer admitted.

“Well go!”  Blake said.  With that they all shooed him deeper into the hospital.

Laura had been moved to a new room, of course.  He headed down there and showed his badge to the agents at the door to be let in.  There was a curtain blocking off the rest of the room, for privacy.  From the other side he heard the now familiar suck-slurping sounds that went straight to his heart.  “It’s me.” He said as he went to wash his hands.  “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”  Laura replied in a dreamy voice.  “They helped me get a shower.  Even brought some warm milk to help me calm down.  I’d forgotten how good this is.”

“Is it?”  He stepped around the curtain.  She was sitting in bed, propped up against a pile of pillows, the baby nursing away.  In that moment it finally clicked.  “You’re beautiful.”  He said to both of them.

She just smiled.  “Going to come say hello or what?”

Spencer went over and eased in behind her, looking over her shoulder at that perfect little face.  “Hello Daniel.”  He said softly.  “I’m your Dad.”


	67. Chapter 67

**Epilogue - Love**

“You know the division of the sexes is not actually fifty-fifty. “

Dave Rossi stopped at the red light and looked over at his passenger.  “Oh?”

“At birth it’s actually one hundred and six boys to every one hundred girls, probably to compensate for the inherent fragility of the Y chromosome.”

His passenger looked like someone had taken the main characters from Harry Potter, tossed them into a blender and hit combine.  He had Harry’s looks, right down to the round glasses on his nose.  He had Hermionie’s brains going in there, and her reading ability, far beyond his age.  And he had Weasley red hair.  “That so.”

“Uh huh.  And men in high stress occupations like law enforcement tend to skew to male children.”

Dave watched as his five year old Grandson squirmed in excitement.  “You really want a little brother that badly?”

“Uh-huh.”  Danny Reid flashed him the grin that always melted his Aunt Penelope’s heart.

“Okay.”  Dave chuckled.  He knew there were no promises he could make here.

They made it to the hospital and got him out of his seat.  “Don’t forget the balloon.”  Talked to the nurses, found the room.  “Slow down.”  He said as Danny started running.  Got to the room, “Knock first.”  Waited for the come in.  “Remember, you have to wash your hands.”  Got the hands clean and then finally, finally, let him go around the curtain.

And Danny stopped.

And he stared in wonder.

And he slowly walked over to the bed and looked at the little bundle in his mother’s arms. 

“Hi Julia,” he said with a grin.  “I’m your big brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end to another long tale. Much thanks to my beta reader, the ever patient REIDFANATIC, I could not ramble without her. And thanks to all of you for your help.
> 
> I didn't tackle Laura's stepmother because there is no tackling someone with Narcissistic Personality Disorder, they can neither be rationed with or treated for they refuse to believe that anything is wrong. All you can do is walk away and start your own family.
> 
> Watch this space for my next piece, which will be something not quite a crossover between CM and a very obscure Sci-fi show. I'll have the first chapter up sometime today.
> 
> Thank you all for reading.
> 
> \- TKL


End file.
